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BILL THE BACHELOR

RECENT FICTION,
Captivity.

By Leokora Eyles.

The Holy Tree.

By Gerald O'Dokovan.

Brushwood.

By Kathleen M. Barrow.

The Great Quest.

By C. Boardmam Hawes.

Career.

By Dorothy Keknard.

Jadb and Other Stories.

By Hugh Wilev.

Ginger & Co.

By G. F. Bradby.

I Walked in Arden.

By Jack Crawford.

LONDON: WILLIAM HBINBMANN

BILL THE BACHELOR

By
DENIS j^ACKAIL

Author of
" What Next?" "Romance to the Rescue," etc.

London • William Heinemann

CONTENTS

I. FIRST APPEARANCE OF THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 7

II. LESLIE ....... 54

III. A FEW TELEGRAMS

IV. MR. GIRLING
V. FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE

VI. BILL V. FATE
VII. THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR

94
142
206
267
323

BILL THE BACHELOR

FIRST APPEARANCE OF THE RIGHT-
HAND MAN

That little star down there, towards which we are
swooping through space, grows larger and nearer every
moment. From the pin-point which it was when we
first saw it, it has become an orange ; from an orange,
a football ; and as it continues to expand, we now seem
to detect, though faintly at first through the drifting
patches of vapour, dim outlines and blotches of light
and shade irregularly marking its surface. Still the
circle grows and grows in size. Already, so rapidly are
we approaching, it fills nearly a third of the visible
firmament ; now half ; now three-quarters ; and then,
as the last surrounding rim of sky is swallowed up by
the ever-increasing mass, with a sudden and, to us,
almost physical shock, the gibbous hemisphere seems to
turn to a vast, circular bowl, whose steep sides surround
us in every direction. Unchecked we hold our course
towards the vortex of this gigantic pit, whose M'alls,
however, seem now to be sinking with us as we descend,
and at last we are able to catch a glimpse, far beneath,
of two islands set at the edge of a great ocean.

It is towards the larger of these that we are apparently
speeding, and as we draw nearer still, patches of faint
colour are seen spread over it, which gradually take form
as moor, or forest, or downland. But immediately
below us there is no colour ; only an immense, smoky
mass, veined in every direction with cracks and crevices
of a darker or dirtier grey. Across the centre of this

7

8 BILL THE BACHELOR

desolate tract there wanders a paler, but still almost
colourless river, and it is the sight of the numerous^
bridges which seem to span its muddy flow which now
suggests the thought that what we are approaching is
not, as had at first appeared, the scene of some huge
and still smouldering volcanic upheaval, some desert
of cooling and cracking lava, but a city, built and lived
in by intelligent beings.

The next moment a distant, muffled roar comes
snarling up to us from below, and from this instant
there can no longer be any doubt. Every second fresh
evidence reaches our eyes and ears. The crevices and
cracks are seen to be full of rapidly-moving vehicles,
and it is from the traffic of these that the sound which
we have heard chiefly arises. That staggering hoot
came from one of the ships' syrens over there, where
the river and its adjoining docks are crowded with great
vessels, taking on and discharging their cargoes ; and a
little later we suddenly see, scattered everywhere, the
crowds of minute black figures at whose bidding this
extraordinary settlement has arisen. I

Smaller and smaller becomes our field of vision, the
closer we draw to the surface of the planet, and at last
we are actually plunging into one of the dark fissures
which run in every direction through this vast and
amorphous conglomeration of buildings.

And at the very bottom of this ravine, speeding along
in his big, black Umousine, we come on Thomas Grahame,
second Baron Longwood, and Mr. J. H. Tidman, his
private secretary, both of them now on their way to a
board-meeting.

Lord Longwood, whom you may distinguish by his
cigar, and the fact that he is leaning back in his seat,
may possibly fail at the first glance to satisfy your
requirements either as aristocrat or as business magnate.
A pleasant-looking, unassuming, elderly man, the only
characteristic of which we are at the moment able to
take definite hold is the puzzled blink with which he
surveys the world in general and the London traffic in
particular. Sometimes he frowns a little ; the frown of

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 9

a man who is constantly reminding himself of, and as
constantly forgetting, his own importance. Perhaps we
feel slightly puzzled also, but the truth is that the second
Lord Longwood is, paradoxically enough, a business
magnate by heredity and an aristocrat only by recently-
acquired training. An unusual, but, after all, not a
wholly exceptional type.

The name Grahame suggests Scotland, but as a matter
of fact old Andrew Grahame, who supplied both the title
and the position which are now in the care of his son,
was something much more terrible and efficient than a
mere Scot ; for although of Scottish ancestry he had
been brought up in Yorkshire, and the result of this
mixture provided all and more than one might have
feared.

The preliminary stages in this remarkable career are
now lost, probably for ever, in an obscurity which the
first Lord Longwood himself never did anything to
lighten. But rumour is probably not far out when it
credits him with having begun as something in the nature
of a half-timer. Relying as we do on outside evidence,
we must regretfully skip something like thirty-five years
of the obstinate, heroic, and entirely selfish struggles
in which his early days were spent, before we reach the
first definite fact, his appearance, a widower with an
only son, as owner of the Grahame and Betteredge Mills,
situated on the outskirts of Huddersfield. But since
by this time there was certainly no Betteredge attached
to his person, we may be right in assuming that the
stepping-stones on which he had risen out of the unknown
were not wholly mineral in their constitution.

Ten years later he controlled a group of textile fac-
tories dotted about the West Riding, and for another
ten years still his presence remained to inspire fear and
admiration within a radius of twenty-five miles round
Bradford. Then, as if to notify him that even Yorkshire
manufacturers are mortal, the gods intervened and sent
him his first bad attack of asthma. But even here his
luck was not altogether out. Although he yielded to
the doctors' advice and came to live in the south, he was

10 BILL THE BACHELOR

able to turn his business into a limited liability company
on such terms as he could never have obtained but for
the contracts which the South African war had just
brought to him. He left his son in nominal charge in
the north, and, discovering to his delight the overpower-
ing effect which his reputation and accent had on the
weak-minded southerners, he began dabbling, and
dabbling with success, in other industries. His name
appeared on the directorates of steel and shipping com-
panies. Occasionally industrial disputes would draw
him back to the West Riding, where his fame, his appear-
ance, and the double coronas which he would carelessly
offer to the trade union leaders never failed in their
effect. But for the most part he moved between Hare
Hall, the house which he had taken in Kent, and his
office in Great St. Jude's in the City of London. In
1906 he was made a baronet, as to the reasons for which
honour, students of English history may make their
own deductions.

The mills of God, and of Sir Andrew Grahame, con-
tinued their usual work, and in due course there arrived
the European war. The original Grahame and Better-
edge factory had always specialised in the construction
of a material known as shalloon. This fabric, which is
said to derive its name from the town of Chalons-sur-
Marne, is, as you are probably aware, a kind of light
serge, principally used for linings or for the rather
flimsy requirements of women's tailors. If you were
shown a piece of it, you might admire its potentialities
as the foundation of a tennis skirt, but you would hardly
expect that it would be in very great demand by the
army in the field. This, however, is exactly where you
would, unless you were an insufferably well-informed
person, be wrong. It is true that the stuff is too light
to be used for uniforms, too porous for bell-tents, too
loosely-woven for parachutes, too thin and elastic for
web-equipment and too rough even for hospital shirts.
But, and especially when made to the government
specification, it possesses one peculiar property. It
burns evenly and quickly, and it leaves a minimum of

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN H

ash. That is why it was utilised to contain the propellant
charge of every gun of the B.L. or (as we might say)
howitzer type which was fired during the four years and
three months of the war.

I am not going to try and say how many charges were
disposed of in this manner over this period, or in how
many places (including Chalons-sur-Marne) this indis-
pensable textile was employed. Nor shall I trouble
anyone by stating how many inches or feet were con-
sumed on each occasion. The figures, even if I knew
what they were, would make no more impression on you
than does the size of the national debt. But their
significance is no less real.

In the fullness of time the Government, represented
by Mr. S. C. Withers (afterwards Sir Sidney Withers,
K.B.E.), signed an Order requisitioning the whole output
of the Grahame and Betteredge mills. Chartered
accountants were conjured up from their dens, and,
having done mysterious and magical things with the
symbols of their trade, presently emerged to announce
what would, in their opinion, be a reasonable rate of
profit to allow Sir Andrew Grahame and his associates
for the services which they were rendering their country.
As a matter of fact, the associates were by now very
few, for Sir Andrew had amused himself during the period
of keenest German competition before the war by buying
up the depreciated shares in his own mills. The business
was once more sufficiently his own, therefore, and steel
and shipping were in a sufficiently healthy condition,
for him to yield to a temptation which sooner or later
always besets these hard-headed northerners ; the
temptation to surprise people.

He sent a holograph communication to the W^ar
Office, offering to supply his goods at a still lower rate
than that which the experts had recommended, and
began preparing himself for the storm of admiration
and disgust which this action would arouse in the re-
spective minds of the public and his fellow-manufacturers.

But with the situation which thus arose, the War
Office found themselves unable to deal. In vain was

12 BILL THE BACHELOR

the Record Office searched for a precedent which might
govern their reply to this extraordinary offer, and alter
a delay of three weeks, Mr. P. F. Maunder (afterwards
Sir Peter Maunder, K.B.E.) wrote a dignified letter to
Sir Andrew in which he pointed out that in view of all
the circumstances attendant on the general conditions
to which the present situation tended to give rise, and
after the most careful consideration of the whole matter
by the War Department, and after special reference to
and consultation with the Lords Commissioners of His
Majesty's Treasury, he was directed to express regret
that the Department found itself unable to take advan-
tage of the suggestion which Sir Andrew Grahame had
been good enough to lay before it. He was instructed
to add, however, that a special note had been made of
the offer in question, and if at any future time the De-
partment should find itself in a position to give the matter
additional consideration, a further communication would
be addressed to Sir Andrew Grahame ; and he was Sir
Andrew Grahame's obedient servant, P. F. Maunder,
Deputy Assistant Director of Statistical Production.

And so once again Sir Andrew began going north.
Though he was making money more rapidly and on a
larger scale than he had ever done in his life, he was also
working pretty hard for it. At Huddersfield he was
giving personal attention to the enlargement of his
mills, standing cigars to the labour leaders when they
began talking about profit-sharing ; standing cigars to
the recruiting authorities when they called up his
skilled workers by mistake ; exchanging cigars with the
heads of the Textile branch of the War Office at Bradford.
At least once a week he would take the train south to
look after his other businesses, to argue with the officials
responsible for inspecting and paying for his shalloons,
and to sit on one or more of the innumerable advisory
committees with which the Government was filling all
the hotels in London.

Finally, although he was well over seventy now, the
spirit of this curious period, which destroyed the young
and rejuvenated the old, so far exerted its influence on

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 18

him that he suddenly acquired a pair of plus-four knicker-
bockers and appeared, clothed in this raiment, in the
Prime Minister's retinue at Walton Heath. Once again
students of English history will have foreseen the
inevitable consequence of these activities. In the New
Year's Honours list of 1918, it was announced that His
Majesty had been graciously pleased to confer upon Sir
Andrew Grahame, Bart., a Barony of the United King-
dom. A few days later a paragraph appeared in the
Press, stating that the new peer had decided to take his
title from the district which had seen the foundation of
his fortunes, and as Lord Longwood of Longwood in
the West Riding of Yorkshire he was for the remainder
of his earthly existence known.

If we look round to-day at the members of the
aristocracy which was produced by the Great War, we
find that in practically every case these heroes of the
hour of their country's need have allowed themselves
(shall we say like Cincinnatus ?) to relapse into compara-
tive obscurity. How far this has been intentional on
their part it might be unwise to enquire. One of the
tiresome things about a war (as Colonel Baxter, of whom
I shall have more to say later, could tell you) is the way
in which the public, in its natural haste to forget what it
found an extremely unpleasant experience, sweeps also
into oblivion those who seemed but a few months before
to have secured practically freehold niches in the Temple
of Fame. Even more disheartening than this, after
this particular war the public for a time showed serious
signs of examining the pedestals in these niches, with
the clear and critical intention of ascertaining to what
extent they might be made of gold, and how much of
that gold it had itself contributed. Fortunately or
otherwise, in the drifting currents of the years immedi-
ately following the armistice, this determination became
weakened, and eventually to a large extent disappeared.
But its existence at one time may possibly help to
account for the resignation with which so many of these
great men returned to their ploughs.

In the case of the first Baron Longwood, all this must

14 BILL THE BACHELOR

remain a matter for speculation. It seems hard to
believe that he would ever have been content with any
curtailment of his power, however indifferent he may
have been to its attendant publicity. But the problem
was never placed before him. Once more, and for the
last time in his life, he got ahead of all his rivals, for
he succumbed to an attack of asthma on the morning
of the eleventh of November in the same year which
had brought him his highest public honour, and his
present whereabouts and opinions must consequently
remain as obscure as those of his obscure beginning.

Authenticated cases are by no means lacking where
sons, whose existence has been carried on under the
constant eclipse of their father's personality, have yet,
when the shadow has at length been removed, astonished
the world by coming out with all sorts of unsuspected
qualities, and have even, in the limited time at their
disposal, contrived to flare up with a belated brilliance
of their own. But with the heir to the title and posses-
sions of the first Lord Longwood, nothing of this sort
occurred. For too many years had he fetched and
carried and lived where he hadn't wanted to live and
done what he hadn't wanted to do, for any ambitions
to survive other than the simple ambition to be left
alone. And yet he couldn't be left quite alone. He
was too rich for that. Look at him now as he frowns
helplessly at his cigar, which, because it is his cigar, has
burnt all up one side and is scattering huge flakes of ash
over his knees. He doesn't want to go to that board-
meeting. He would be far happier pottering round the
garden at Hare Hall. But it never occurs to him not
to go. Mr. Tidman, who was his father's private
secretary for the last fifteen years of his life, has booked
the appointment in his engagement book, has ordered
the car to be at the front door at ten o'clock, and has
arranged in the despatch case which he is now holding
on his lap, as he sits bolt upright on the edge of the seat,
the correct papers for this particular meeting, together
with a memorandum of the correct observations which
his employer is to make on them. He has always

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 15

done this, and, as far as can be seen, he always
will.

And don't imagine that at the board-meeting itself
Lord Longwood is going to disgrace himself by any
exhibition of inefficiency, even if he does have to be
reminded, as they slow up for a block in the traffic, that
it is Harraways' (Leicester) Limited at whose direction
he is to assist to-day, and not, as he had apparently
imagined, at that of the Gwddryn Colliery Company.
Whichever it had been, he would have brought the same
cautious and conservative mind to its deliberations, and
this, backed by the size of his financial interest in both
concerns, would have ensured that whatever opinion he
might choose to give would receive the most favourable
consideration from his fellow-directors ; and that if he
preferred to give no opinion at all, it would but add to
his inherited reputation for having more in him than
appears on the surface.

Oh, yes, he is a good enough capitalist in practice ; he
could hardly have worked under his father for all those
years and be otherwise. But you won't find the fear-
lessness and the independence and the initiative which
distinguished his terrifying old parent. Perhaps they
have skipped a generation, for such characteristics very
often do. We may go down to Hare Hall later on and
look into this.

Not that there is, or ever will be, a third Lord Long-
wood, to add confusion to this narrative. The founder
of the house had, in hoping to achieve this end, met with
one of his few defeats. For although certain financial
operations entered into with the impoverished Earl of
Tadcaster, and certain threats and instructions issued
to his son, had, now nearly thirty years ago, brought
about the desired union between this son and the Earl's
only daughter ; and although everything seemed thus
in train for the perpetuation of the dynasty on the most
approved lines, Fate and physiology had intervened.
Lady Alice Grahame had after considerable delay given
birth to a daughter, and in such circumstances that it
was clear that this first effort must also be her last.

16 BILL THE BACHELOR

And after two more years of suffering, she died, leaving
her husband, to his father's horror, an inconsolable
widower. In vain were the pages of Debrett fluttered
before young Mr. Grahame's eyes. In the six years of
his marriage he had fallen more and more deeply in
love with his wife, and he, who had never before with-
stood a single wish that his father had expressed, now
took his stand behind these intangible defences and, for
the first and last time, uttered his defiance. Never, in
any circumstances or under any conditions, would he
marry again.

What use to threaten him with disinheritance ? Old
Andrew Grahame recognised determination when he
saw it. He dropped the subject, hoping perhaps that
time might succeed where he had failed, and contented
himself with exercising his authority where it still existed,
with keeping his son's otherwise dutiful nose to the grind-
stone, and with reducing his allowance. And young Mr.
Grahame grew gradually older and continued to do
everything, except this one thing, that he was told.
And if he sometimes wished that he were some one else's
son, and became a little quieter, and blinked a little
oftener every year, what of that ? Wasn't he one day
going to be a millionaire ?

The big limousine had now reached its final objective,
Messrs. Harraways' registered offices in Wood Street, and
already, as the chauffeur gave his last tug to the hand-
brake and switched off the engine, Messrs. Harraways'
doorkeeper came dashing across the pavement and, with
a semi-military obeisance, assisted with the extraction
of Lord Longwood and his secretary.

" Thank you, Jones," said Lord Longwood ; and
Jones, whose name was Robinson, but who drew his pay
for being called anything that any of the directors chose,
again touched his 'peaked cap.

*' Got the papers, eh ? " added his lordship, turning
to Mr. Tidman.

Mr. Tidman replied by thrusting a bundle of docu-
ments into his employer's hands.

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 17

" Perhaps you'd better wait, just in case I want any-
thing," said Lord Longwood, as they reached the
entrance hall.

" Certainly," answered Mr. Tidman ; and there was
nothing in his expression to show that he had made the
same reply to the same suggestion before every meeting
which the two of them had ever attended.

So Lord Longwood got into the lift and was carried up
to the board-room, and Mr. Tidman, as had been his
custom for countless years, strolled along to the
manager's office.

For once Mr. Sanderson was not alone. As Mr. Tid-
man entered his room, an enormous young man got up
from a chair in the corner and stood shuffling awkwardly
like a nervous elephant, as if waiting to be told whether
to sit down again or to clear out.

" Hullo, Tidman," said Mr. Sanderson. " Come along
in. You haven't met my son, have you ? He's home
on a holiday from Canada."

" How do you do ? " said Mr. Tidman.

" Pleased to meet you, sir," said Mr. Sanderson's
gigantic son, and seizing the private secretary's hand, he
subjected it to a sudden and forcible pressure of ap-
proximately five tons to the square inch.

" Don't go away. Bob," continued Mr. Sanderson.
" Mr. Tidman has only come in for a chat. That's
right, isn't it, Tidman ? "

" That's right," said Mr. Tidman, gazing anxiously at
his injured hand.

" Bob was telling me," went on Mr. Sanderson, who,
like all successful managers of commercial houses, had
never yet been detected in the act of doing any work,
"about how he spent his last holiday out in the
west."

" Oh ? " said Mr. Tidman politely.

" Go on, Bob," said Mr. Sanderson.

And Bob went on.

About twenty minutes later the directors sent down
word that they would like to see the manager.

" Don't run away," said Mr. Sanderson, e^dressing his

B

18 BILL THE BACHELOR

son and his visitor ; " I'll be down in a few minutes, I
expect."

But his expectations were falsified. It was half an
hour before the directors had done with him, and when
as length he returned to his own room, it was empty.

He put his head out of the door again

" Hi ! Robinson ! " he shouted.

" Sir ? "

" Did you see my son going out ? "

" Yes, sir. He went out with Mr. Tidman about ten
minutes ago."

"Oh. Thanks."

Mr. Sanderson closed his door again, and disappears
from the story for good.

But the extraordinary, the unaccountable thing was,
that when the directors' meeting at length broke up at
nearly half past one, there was his lordship's car and his
lordship's chauffeur, but his lordship's private secretary
still hadn't returned.

" But Where's Tidman ? " asked Lord Longwood,
looking helplessly round for some means of getting rid
of his papers.

In this highly organised civilisation of ours, there will
generally be found some voice to answer all questions
put by people with over ten thousand a year, even
though those questions be addressed, as was the case
with this one, to nothing more definite than the circum-
ambient air. The man Robinson emerged from the
background and took up his cue.

" Mr. Tidman's gone, my lord," he said.

" Gone ? " repeated his lordship.

" Yes, my lord."

" Was he ill ? "

*' I couldn't say, my lord. I don't think so."

Lord Longwood blinked at Robinson, blinked at the
entrance hall, blinked up and down Wood Street, and
finally blinked himself into his car.

" Look here," were his last words to the man Robin-
son. " If my secretary comes back, you'd better tell
him that I've gone to lynch,"

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 10

" Very good, my lord."

The big limousine uttered a solitary, deep-throated
warning of its intentions, and moved away.

" Extraordinary thing," muttered Lord Longwood to
himself. " What on earth can he have been thinking
of ? He can't have forgotten about me."

But this was just where Lord Longwood was wrong.

It seems a little obvious, perhaps, to say that nothing
marks the passage of time so much as one's birthdays,
since it was precisely for this purpose, presumably, that
birthdays were first invented. But what I am thinking
of when I say this, is the remarkable change in one's
attitude towards these anniversaries which takes place
as the years go by, and how unpleasantly the recognition
of this change accentuates what one might otherwise
hope to forget — namely, that it isn't only one's friends
who are growing older.

The glowing sensation of heroism which attaches to a
birthday when one first becomes conscious of its exist-
ence, makes it all the harder to bear when the discovery
is made (about the age of fourteen) that the enthusiasm
of one's relatives for this particular occasion is beginning
to cool off. A child with even the most elementary
knowledge of mathematics cannot but recognise that if
the number of presents goes on diminishing like this, a
year will very soon arrive when there will no longer be
any at all. And then, as the last of the birthday presents
does in fact disappear, comes the dread realisation that
this once happy day has had all the time a hidden and
horrible significance ; that instead of merely marking
additions to one's toy-cupboard, one's sporting outfit,
or one's savings-bank account, it has been persistently,
if surreptitiously, marking one's approach to decrepitude
and decay.

It is at the moment of this discovery that many people
reach the sudden decision that they will never have
another birthday again. Under sufficient pressure from
official sources they will perhaps admit to having been

20 BILL THE BACHELOR

born in a certain year, even on a certain day, but for all
personal and social purposes the anniversaries of that
date are from this instant struck off the calendar. And
if a long-lost brother, returning late in life from New
Zealand, be rash enough suddenly to wish them many
happy returns of the day, then will occur another of
those violent and often fatal outbreaks of senile fury,
whose explanation has baffled so many distinguished
alienists.

All this leads in the direction of Mr. Alexander Eraser,
sitting at his desk in the offices of Eraser and Company
in Pardon Court, who, raising his eyes to the adjustable
almanack which hung on the opposite wall, realised
before he could stop himself that whereas yesterday he
had been twenty-eight, to-day he was twenty-nine, and
that this occurrence had provoked no single comment of
any description whatsoever from any person on the face
of the earth.

His melancholy, yet pleasing countenance became
convulsed with gloom.

" Good Lord ! " he groaned aloud. " In a year from
to-day I shall be thirty." And the grave seemed to
yawn before him.

" At this age," he told himself, dropping his fountain-
pen from his nerveless grasp, " Alexander the Great had
conquered the East, the younger Pitt had been Prime
Minister, Napoleon had returned in triumph from Italy,
Jack Dempsey had knocked out Carpentier. And what
have I done ? "

The answer was only too apparent. Nothing.

True, a conspiracy between the British and German
governments had deprived him of four and a half years
of very valuable time, but could he accept this as a
permissible excuse ? Hadn't other warriors managed
to overcome this handicap ? Hadn't his brother got
married and made a name for himself at the Bar ?
Hadn't Jim Grant got married and made his fortune in
the City ? Hadn't John Ormroyd got married and had
a run of four hundred nights at a London theatre ?
While he — what could he have been doing with himself

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 21

all the time ? Coming down to the office, going home to ^
the flat, playing golf on his holidays, and all the while
that infernal almanack had been watching him and
sneering at him. Laughing to itself, no doubt, to see
him come in here every day and fritter aM'ay his time
answering letters and talking to his partner and reading
the Public Ledger. Bah !

And yet, the next moment, for some inscrutable
reason connected doubtless with the general trouble
originally caused by the Fall of Man, instead of going
on his knees and taking an oath that the rest of his life
should be devoted to concentrated self-improvement,
what must he do but begin wondering how he could best
celebrate this, the last birthday which he would ever
have the face to celebrate at all.

How about asking his brother and his sister-in-law
to dine and go to a play ? Maurice could be trusted to
have forgotten that any special significance attached to
the date, so that there would be no risk of his feeling
that he would have to turn up with a box of cigars or
anything of that sort.

He reached for the telephone and gave the number of
his brother's chambers.

" I say," he said, when at length he had prevailed
on the clerk to put him through. " I say, are you and
Beatrix doing anvthing to-night ? "

" Yes," said Maurice. " Why ? "

Between brothers, words are not wasted.

" Oh," said Mr. Fraser junior. " I thought perhaps
you might have dined with me somewhere and "

" Why ? " broke in Maurice again. " Aren't you
dining with us to-morrow ? "

Dash it all ! So he was. He had quite forgotten.

" Oh, yes, of course," he stammered. " Only I "

" All right. We'll see you then. I'm afraid I'm
awfully busy now. Good-bye."

The conversation was over.

There you are, you see. Alexander the Great, or
the younger Pitt would certainly have thought of looking
in their engagement-books before they had begun issuing

22 BILL THE BACHELOR

invitations to dinner. But he, it seemed, couldn't even
do that.

Yet he still felt that something must be done to mark
the importance of the day ; something, that was, in
addition to making a fool of himself on the telephone.
And he still couldn't call into his mind any better
suggestion than some kind of a dinner.

Well, then, if Maurice and Beatrix couldn't come, it
must be a man's dinner. Agreed.

And they would dine at the Club and play bridge
afterwards at the flat. Also agreed.

Then three other men would be needed. Undoubtedly.
But who ?

At this point the whole plan of celebrating the birth-
day as nearly as possible fell to the ground. But as
destiny had to be fulfilled. Fate at this moment caused
the door to open, and the other partner in Eraser and
Company to come wandering aimlessly into the room.
A tall, untidy figure, of indeterminate age, with a bald
forehead, immensely thick spectacles, and a fitful,
schoolboyish grin, George Lucas is not only a partner,
but also a distant cousin of the man with the birthday.

" G'morning, Bill," he remarked, as he kicked the
door shut again behind him. (I don't know why Alex-
ander Eraser was always called Bill, but he was. And
this being the case, we had better call him that too.)

" I came in to say something," George Lucas went on
thoughtfully. " But I can't remember what it was."

" Never mind," said Bill sympathetically. " Can you
dine with me to-night ? "

" Yes, certainly," said George, pausing in his retreat.
" Why ? "

" Never mind why," said Bill hastily. " Or if you
must, then try and imagine it's because I want you."

" Oh, all right. When and where, and must I dress ? "

" Corinthian at eight and yes," answered Bill
succinctly.

" Is anybody else coming ? "

" Yes. Two other fellows."

"Oh; who?"

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 38

An awkward question this, but Bill parried it.

" Two fellows from the Club," he said.

" What are they called ? "

" I don't know," said Bill impatiently.

" You don't know ? " repeated George, with a look
of surprise. " Why, what's the idea ? "

" I mean I haven't asked them yet."

" Oh," said George. " Why not ? "

" Because," explained Bill, laboriously and politely,
" the idea of giving this dinner has only just come into
my head."

" Oh," said George, with apparent relief. " Then
need we have the other two fellows ? "

" Not if you'd rather not."

" Well, it's your party," George admitted generously.

" Well, I'm sure I don't want them," said Bill.

And so at last it was settled. And nothing any longer
remained to distinguish the twenty-ninth birthday
from any of the other countless evenings on which Bill
Fraser had dined with George Lucas, or George Lucas
had dined with Bill Fraser. Nothing, that is, in the
evening as planned. There was something, however,
in the evening, as it turned out.

Not all the north-countrymen who come to London
end up as peers and millionaires. There are a few
scattered exceptions to every rule. Take Mr. Robert
Fraser, for instance, the father of Maurice and Bill, as
happy-go-lucky a failure as any that are bred on this
side of the Trent. At the age of thirty-three he succeeded
to the nominal control of the family business, an export
agency with its headquarters at Leith, which acted on
behalf of a group of Scottish manufacturers and sold
their goods principally in Northern Russia and the
Baltic provinces. In so far as he was happy-go-lucky,
he should have been content to let the managing clerk
go on running the business, which would have ensured
him a comfortable and increasing income for the rest
of his life. But in so far as he was predestined to be a

24 BILL THE BACHELOR

failure, this wasn't good enough for him. He was a man
who reacted violently and with the utmost perversity
to all outside advice, and more violently and perversely
than ever, when such advice was tendered by his rela-
tions.

Unfortunately, his great-uncle Hector, who ought to
have known better at the age of ninety-two, went out
of his way to comment first on the capabilities of Mr.
McWhinnie, the aforesaid managing clerk, and secondly
on the superiority of Leith as a centre of business to any
other town on the face of the globe. This was quite
enough for Mr. Robert Eraser. Then and there he
decided to pension off McWhinnie and to transfer his
business to London, and, the remainder of the clan
immediately siding with great-uncle Hector, the thing
was done. The office in Leith and the house in Edin-
burgh were sold, and an office in London and a house in
Kent were acquired. As might have been expected,
the majority of the Scottish manufacturers took the
first opportunity of entering into dealings elsewhere, for
they naturally preferred to make use of agents in their
own part of the kingdom. This didn't worry Mr. Robert
Eraser, for nothing ever did. He was perfectly convinced
that in a very short time he would have established
relations with far bigger and richer English firms, and
on the strength of this conviction, assisted by a manner
which possessed an irresistible charm for almost every-
one except his relatives, he continued to pick up an
extraordinary, hand-to-mouth living for another twenty
or twenty-five years.

The books of Eraser and Company during this period
contain references to dealings in almost every conceiv-
able commodity which has ever been bought or sold,
and there was a great deal more that never got into the
books at all. Political economists would gasp and
shudder at the possibility revealed by these records, of
making an annual profit ranging between fifty and five
thousand pounds a year, simply and solely by getting
in the way of the wheels of trade. Yet this, to be
perfectly open about it, was all that Mr. Eraser ever did.

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 25

Serene optimism and a complete disregard for all moral
restrictions other than those to which the law lends its
support, were his only stock-in-trade, for his original
capital had soon been eaten up by the inevitable accidents
of his calling. But though he represented a class of
business man whose existence must, I suppose, be
deplored, it seems harsh to brand him as a menace to
society. The scale on which he conducted his operations
was too limited for his individual efforts to have any
noticeable effect on the cost of living. If it had been
otherwise, I should not have called him a failure, and
he might well have joined the society of millionaires
and peers. Let it also be recorded that he adored and
was adored by both his wife and his two children.

In the year 1908, while waiting for a train at Wording-
ham station, Mr. Fraser had the ill-fortune to step on a
fragment from the skin of a banana, and, by a natural
sequence of events, to dislocate his shoulder. This
painful reminder of mortality suddenly caused him to
realise that steps ought really to be taken to carry on
his invaluable business when the inevitable day for his
own retirement should at length arrive. Lying in his
bed at the White House, from whose windows one could,
when the leaves were off the trees, see across the fields
to Hare Hall, he cast about in his mind as to whom he
should select to inherit this precious charge. Maurice's
future had already been mapped out, and a considerable
amount of plunder had been set aside to keep him at
Oxford and enable him to read for the Bar. But what
about Bill ? Well, Bill was a bit young for one to be
able to judge his potentialities. He might or he might
not develop the piratical tendencies which were necessaiy
to the business, but at present there were very few signs
of them. Still Bill should have his chance. Only by
the time Bill was ready for this, he himself would —
there was no use disguising it — be getting on in life.
Would it be safe or practicable to entrust the delicate
machinery of Pardon Court to the mercies of such young
and inexperienced hands ? For a brief moment Mr.
Fraser envisaged the disastrous results wliich might

2« BILL THE BACHELOR

ensue if he were no longer in a position to guide and direct
his younger son's faltering footsteps, and then, suddenly,
he had an idea.

" I know what I'll do," he said. " I'll take a partner.
That'll solve everything. Somebody a bit older than
Bill, who can look after him if I'm not there. That's
the idea."

He called out to his wife, and told her of his decision.

" Yes, darling," said Mrs. Fraser, as she had always
said to every suggestion that he had ever made. " That
will be splendid."

Looking round to discover whom he should select for
the honour of sharing his uncertain profits and his formid-
able liabilities, Mr. Fraser's attention was attracted by
his distant cousin, George Lucas, who was at that time
occupying the unenviable position of the family black
sheep.

The fact that George had been spurned and cast off
by a unanimous synod of his Scottish relations was all
the recommendation that Mr. Fraser required. " There
must be some good in the fellow," he said, " if none of
them will speak to him. I'll have him down for the
week-end."

George Lucas's forehead wasn't so high in those days,
and his spectacles weren't so thick, but his grin had for
the time being vanished altogether. Where formerly
it had been almost constant and later was again to
become fitful, it had now temporarily deserted him,
together with a considerable quantity of ideas and ideals
which, it is to be feared, would never return at all. For
this was what George had done. He had come up to
London to take a post in a bank, he had represented
the said bank in a Saturday afternoon match against
the Lloyd's Underwriters' Clerks' Football Club, and
he had displaced a cartilage in his left leg. On the
Sunday afternoon, finding that his discomfort was
increasing rather than otherwise, he had staggered
round to the nearest doctor's in search of relief, and had
taken his place in a deserted waiting-room. Unfor-
tunately for everybody concerned, this particular doctor

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN «7

had formed the unattractive habit of being completely
intoxicated from Saturday evening until Monday morn-
ing, and he was at this particular moment engaged in
the still less attractive practice of assaulting his wife.

The noise of battle came drifting in to the wounded
footballer, and after he had stood it for five or six minutes
he decided to make closer investigation of the cause of
these alarming sounds. A less impulsive man, on mak-
ing the discovery which George then made, might have
tiptoed from the house and have sought his medical
advice elsewhere. But this was not George's way.
Instead, he felled the exhilarated physician to the earth
and removed the physician's hysterical wife in a four-
wheeled cab. Incidentally the offending cartilage
took advantage of this opportunity to return to its
original position, so that on the following morning he
was able to limp back to his work. But the doctor's
wife declined to return to her original position. She
was, unfortunately, a dinger, and she had made up her
mind to cling to George. And George, unfortunately,
being young and soft-hearted, let her cling.

You can see the kind of thing that followed. The
doctor sobered up in due course, and, recalling to mind
that an Englishman's house was his castle and that an
Englishman's wife was his property, proceeded to
entangle himself in an indescribably sordid mixture of
private enquiry agents and cheap solicitors. And all
the time the woman continued to cling, rather like the
ivy, but at considerably greater expense.

And so George became a black sheep, for of course
you can't keep these things out of the newspapers.
His bank gave him a month's salary in lieu of notice,
his relations in Scotland wrote and told him that he
would oblige them by never darkening their doors again,
a young woman in the same part of the kingdom de-
manded the return of a considerable number of letters,
and his friends in London left him to lie on the bed or
to stew in the juice which he had made for himself.
Meanwhile the month's salary went but a short way
towards meeting the extra expenses for which he had

28 BILL THE BACHELOR

made himself responsible. It was at this period that
George's hair began to retreat.

And the annoying thing about the whole business, as
anyone with less impracticable ideas of chivalry would
have confessed, was that in the end the only person to
suffer permanently from it all was George himself. For
within a year of that unlucky football match the doctor
had broken his neck by falling off the pavement outside
his club, and his wife had succumbed to pneumonia
brought on by looking into shop windows in the rain.
Thus, when it is too late, does Fate point the moral of
the uselessness of intervening in the affairs of married
people. The black sheep, with his fleece shorn to the
skin, mounted an inferior stool in an inferior bank, and
was left to wonder what the dickens the purpose of the
whole thing had been.

One can imagine the clumsy gratitude* with which he
leapt at Mr. Fraser's unexpected offer ; the frenzy with
which he set to work to show that the confidence which
he had gained had not been misplaced; and the
bewilderment with which he discovered the kind of
establishment that he was in. But though bewildered,
he remained grateful. He made up his mind to build
up at least a corner of the business which should aim at
some kind of permanency and respectability, and in
this attempt, perhaps owing to the senior partner's
now failing vitality, he succeeded. Messrs. Fraser and
Company — the Company at last representing something
more than a few clerks and an office boy — continued to
plunge wildly about in the produce markets, to gamble
in re-insurance, and to afford temporary domicile for
the registered offices of phantom firms ; but out of the
wreckage of the old days in Leith there had still been
left a nucleus of trade with Russia, and under George
Lucas's tender care this nucleus again grew and devel-
oped. In four years Messrs. Fraser had reached the
responsible position of acting as sole agents in this part
of Europe for a number of the big English and Scottish
hosiery manufacturers, a position which was attained
after much travelling and negotiation by George, and

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 2d

in spite of much brilliantly impractical assistance from
the senior partner. A new atmosphere and reputation
grew up in the old office in Pardon Court. Almost
without realising it, Mr. Fraser began taking longer
and longer week-ends at home, while the direction of
affairs fell more and more into George's hands. Bank
managers and commercial enquiry bureaux saw fit to
revise the entries which they had made opposite the
firm's name. The old piratical days seemed to have
departed for ever.

In the autumn of 1913, Mr. Fraser returned one day
from the office to the White House, and was sitting
after dinner, dreaming as usual over his evening news-
paper, when his wife, sewing on the opposite side of
the fireplace, thought she heard him murmur her name.
She looked up, but his eyes were closed. She must
have been mistaken, for he had obviously fallen asleep,
as he had taken to doing in the evenings of late. She
threw him an affectionate smile, and was returning to
her embroidery, when suddenly something in his atti-
tude made her heart stand still. Quickly she rose and
leant over him, and then she knew what had happened.
The doctor was telephoned for at once, but that last
utterance of her name had been the end. No more
would Robert Fraser's old-fashioned clothes and flowing
tie appear on the platform of Wordingham Station, in
the garden of the White House, or in his room in Pardon
Court. No more would George Lucas have to dread the
sudden inroads into the firm's bank balance, which to
the last had complicated and endangered his work of
reconstruction. The senior partner in Messrs. Fraser
and Company had become a junior partner in a far
larger and more mysterious business.

Mrs. Fraser went about very quietly and uncom-
plainingly for another three weeks, and then she was
found dead in her bed. Heart failure, said the doctors,
and as heart failure we may let it stand. But there is
more than one kind of heart.

Maurice was now living in his chambers in the Temple,
and Bill had just finished his first year at Oxford. George

80 BILL THE BACHELOR

Lucas wanted him to stay there and take his degree, or
said he wanted it, but Bill decided otherwise. Mr.
Eraser's estate, even after the White House had been
sold, did not provide for the income of two sons in such
unremunerative occupations as briefless barrister and
undergraduate. So at the end of the Michaelmas term
Bill had his own way, and came to London to learn,
under George's guidance, how to sell British underwear
to Mongolian customers. Sometimes he felt very sorry
for himself, and sometimes he didn't, and in this he
showed no marked variation from other young men of
his age.

You may remember what happened in August of the
following year. Quite a quantity of people who hadn't
intended to do anything of the sort, suddenly decided
that it would be a good idea if they went into the army.
Maurice went into the army. Bill went into the army.
And George Lucas cursed and swore in a most alarming
manner because in those days they wouldn't have men
of his age and with his kind of spectacles in the army.
Of course, if he had overcome this prejudice on the part
of the military authorities, it would necessarily have
meant the winding up of Eraser and Company for good
and all. But this was the kind of thing which in the
strange month that I have mentioned seemed of com-
paratively little interest or importance. Bill certainly
would have had no objection, but then Bill had quite
made up his mind that he was going to be killed — a
curiously unusual attitude at the time, considering
everything. However, the authorities would have none
of George Lucas, and in baffled rage he flung himself
into a fresh frenzy of work. He wrote to Bill, who was
now performing evolutions with a dummy rifle somewhere
in the Midlands, to tell him that he had decided to go
out to Russia again and see their various correspondents
himself. And from this point the story of the partners
goes forward on somewhat less conventional and more
unexpected lines.

Eor in the first place Bill wasn't killed. He wasn't
eyen wounded ip the ordinary sense of the word,

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 81

Through no fault of his own, he was laid low with the
childish and unwarlike complaint of measles — though
grown-up measles can be no joke — which kept him in
England over the first Christmas ; and by the time that
he had recovered, he was instructed to proceed to Sal-
onika, where, in spite of all efforts on his part to be
taken away, he remained for nearly four years, the final
portion of which he spent in hospital with a broken
leg, the gift of a mule, who had determined that who-
ever else might join in the general advance, Bill Eraser
certainly should not. So much for the military partner.
Now for the civilian.

George did go out to Russia. He was there for four
months, and a very remarkable four months they were,
even according to his own account, which was a pretty
vague and obscure source of information. What
exactly he was doing at the front or how on earth he
got there, no one ever discovered. His own description
of the affair, when he could be induced to refer to it,
suggested that he had acted as a kind of combatant red-
cross worker with a dash of interpreter thrown in.
There seems no equivalent for this post in our own army.
The culmination of the whole unusual business occurred
on a day when he fell into a shell-hole and broke his
spectacles. While still floundering in the mud, he was
joined, suddenly and violently, by a Russian officer.
According to George's version of the story, he had clung
to the new arrival and by him been led back to safety,
but if this was all that happened, how are we to account
for what followed ?

George groped his way back to Petrograd and bought
himself another pair of lenses, with the assistance of
which he was able to decipher a frantic telegram from
the clerk whom he had left in charge in London, beseech-
ing him to state instantly whether he were alive or dead.

This telegram seems to have reminded him that he
was not as entirely free from responsibilities and attach-
ments as he had in the excitement of the moment imag-
ined. He granted himself inunediate and indefinite
leave, and came b^ck to England. By the time that

82 BILL THE BACHELOR

he had got things straight again in London and was
even considering whether he might not have another
go on the Eastern front, the first of the revolutions
had broken out.

But Russia had not yet quite finished with him. For,
many months later, long after the hand which had
authorised it had disappeared into Siberia, there arrived
in Pardon Court an official document, describing in
glowing terms how one George Lucas had rescued a
certain General Schmidt (one must apologise for this
name, but truth must prevail) under heavy fire, and
acquainting him that there had been conferred on him
the Imperial Order of St. George (third-class), which
would carry with it the honorary rank of Pod-Polkovnik.
The order itself, unluckily, never arrived.

George Lucas put the document away in a cupboard
and forgot about it — it was Bill who afterwards discovered
it and had it framed — for by now he had other things to
think about. The business which he had so carefully
built up with years of patient effort, the business which
he had hoped to guard and increase for his benefactor's
son, had been knocked completely endways by forces
which not even a Pod-Polkovnik could hope to control.
For on the one hand, eighty per cent, of his foreign
markets had vanished into thin air, and on the other,
the British Government had stepped in and diverted to
its own uses all the goods which he might have sold to
his remaining customers. He didn't give in. After
one final rejection by the recruiting authorities, he
returned to Pardon Court, he cut down his own expenses
to the bare minimum, and by one desperate expedient
after another he just managed to keep the firm's head
above water. Slowly and far from surely things im-
proved. When the junior partner at length returned,
there was still a precarious kind of livelihood to be
made out of Eraser and Company, and for want of any-
thing better to do with themselves, they carried on.
But it was a pretty black outlook.

They couldn't 'switch suddenly over jto 'some jother
kind of ^business, for they hadn't the capital to begin

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 38

with. And they couldn't break out into fresh markets,
for, thanks to the general tightening-up of the strands of
commerce which had been taking place during the past
quarter of a century, and had been so much accentuated
by the war, the ground everywhere else was already
covered by sole agents, into whose territory no one
could hope to intrude. Short of converting the South
Sea savages to the use of British hosiery goods, there
was nothing to be done, except to watch their former
rivals battening on the post-war boom, and make the
best of the twenty per cent, which remained to them in
Northern Europe. For a short time the boom had even
managed to swell this miserable residue, but it had long
since reached its appointed end, and in spite of the most
encouraging prophecies from tax-gatherers and other
interested parties, there seemed very little prospect of
its return.

They might, of course, have given in. The commercial
waters would have closed over their heads with scarcely
a ripple. But apart from sentiment, and an unbusiness-
like desire to keep the small staff going, it was perhaps
only human to wish to preserve the illusion that some-
where about the premises there was concealed a goodwill,
whose shrivelled proportions any attempt to dispose of
it must instantly have revealed. So they continued to
stick it out. In defiance of all the economic laws which
were constantly working towards their destruction, and
with a truly national objection to looking the almost
inevitable future in the face, they carried on their un-
profitable task. After all, they were both bachelors,
and nobody minds how hard up a bachelor is.

Such were Eraser and Company, of Pardon Court,
London, E.C.

4

Bill Eraser called his home a flat, and the house agent
who had let it to him had called it a flat, but you or I
would have been more likely to call it an afterthought.
And this was really what it was. Regency House began
well. It had a preliminary layer of intensely respectable
c

84 BILL THE BACHELOR ^

shops. A hosier who had never in his life imagined such
a thing as a ready-made shirt ; a tobacconist, whose
status may be gathered from the fact that his window
was decorated with one, soHtary, mammoth cigar-
cabinet ; an extremely sinister-looking chemist, who
spelt himself " chymist " ; these, and others of a like
description, accounted for the ground floor of the build-
ing. Then came a layer of political club, which occupied
the whole of what Englishmen call the first floor and
Americans call the second story. Then came five layers
of private flats, and then, until a few years ago, had
come the roof. But during the height of the housing
shortage, the proprietors of Regency House had had
the happy thought of excavating this roof ; of punching
holes in the sides and calling them windows, of rigging
up flimsy partitions and calling the resulting cavities
rooms, of changing the iron emergency ladder which
began where the lift stopped for a kind of ship's com-
panion which they called a staircase, and fina^lly of
letting off the whole additional story which they had
thus created as further flats. It was the ship's com-
panion which had frightened other tenants away and
brought the rent of one of these storm-tossed eyries
within the reach of Bill Eraser's purse ; and it was here
that he had lived, with the assistance of his housekeeper,
Mrs. Whalley, ever since he had returned to London.
Not a bad place in a way, but the address was ex-
pensively misleading where tradesmen were concerned.
Only Bill didn't know this.

On the evening of his birthday he had walked back
from the City, had looked in at the Corinthian Club to
see the evening newspapers and order something a little
(but not suspiciously) special in the way of dinner, and
now, back in his sitting-room, he was just thinking of
changing his clothes, when he suddenly remembered
something. Was there anything for George to drink
when they should, later on, return to the flat ? He
went over to the corner cupboard, and there he found a
virgin bottle of whisky, and one, two, three empty
syphons.

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 85

He put his head out of the door and shouted.

" Mrs. Whalley ! " he eaUed. And presently Mrs.
Whalley appeared.

" Mr. Lucas is probably coming back with me after
dinner to-night," he said. " Have I got any soda-
water ? "

" No, sir," said Mrs. Whalley.

" Do you mean absolutely none ? "

" Not a drop, sir," said Mrs. Whalley, with melancholy
and unhelpful precision.

" Then what am I to do ? " asked Bill.

His question indicates the completeness with which,
like all other bachelors in similar circumstances, he was
at his housekeeper's mercy. It never occuried to him
to put into words the criticism which he was sensible
that her arrangements deserved. He merely placed
himself uncomplainingly in her hands, as he had done
so many hundreds of times before, and would do, pre-
sumably, so many thousands of times again.

" Well, sir," said Mrs. Whalley. " I'm afraid it's too
late to telephone anywhere now, but I expect you could
get some at the shop downstairs. I'd offer to go myself,"
she added, " only. ..."

And here she stopped. Not that Bill had interrupted
her, for it would really have been a matter of considerable
interest to him to learn of any reason why Mrs. Whalley
should not go out and get the soda-water herself. But
of course he had not, and she knew it, the courage to
solve this enigma by a direct question. Instead, as her
sad and superior eye gradually overwhelmed him, he
actually found himself moving towards his hat.

" Oh, all right," he muttered. " I'll run down and
get some now."

Satisfied that she had demonstrated her continued
power to keep her employer thoroughly in his place,
Mrs. Whalley permitted herself a slight relaxation in
her tone.

" I'm sorry you should have the trouble, sir," she said.

" Not at all, Mrs. Whalley," he replied gallantly, and
with these words they separated.

86 BILL THE BACHELOR

But it wasn't until he reached the street that it
suddenly occurred to him to wonder at what particular
kind of establishment one did, in fact, buy bottles of
soda-water. Mrs. Whalley had said " the shop," but,
as has been explained. Regency House was entirely
supported on shops. And such shops as they were, too.
Not lightly or casually did one brave the baleful and
contemptuous glances with which their occupants were
in the habit of favouring anyone who interrupted what
appeared to be their abstract contemplation of the
theory of retail trade. If one arrived in a motor, and
gave a fifty-pound order, well and good. But to ask
for a single syphon of soda-water was going to take some
courage, and to ask for it at the wrong shop would be
even worse.

In this moment of indecision, Bill Eraser's eye lit on
his own hall-porter, taking the evening air at the edge
of the pavement. He approached him.

" Oh, Barron," he said, in what he hoped would appear
an easy, off-hand manner. " I've got to get some soda-
water in rather a hurry. What would be the best
place ? "

" Ibbs and Willingham, sir," replied the porter. " I
expect they'd let you have some."

The Wine Merchants. This was even worse than he
had feared.

" Thanks," he murmured. " Thanks very much."
And he moved slowly away.

Now surely there can be no need to emphasise the
bravery which it requires to enter the premises of a
West-End wine merchant, with whom one has never
dealt before, and ask to be supplied with a small quantity
of a non-alcoholic beverage. Messrs. Ibbs and Willing-
ham were, if possible, even more forbidding and respect-
able in their outward appearance than the other shops
which have been mentioned. They certainly carried
simplicity in the decoration of their fa§ade to the
furthest possible degree. Not a trace of a bottle was to
be seen from the street. The whole lower part of the
window was filled in with a wire screen, into which the

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 87

names of the partners had been ingeniously woven ;
while the upper portion was blank, save for a small
shield, glued to the surface of the glass, which bore the
arms of some royal dynasty, and two or three white
enamelled letters below it, which represented all that
was left of the mystic phrase, " By appointment."

For a moment the thought entered Bill's head of
retreating to his flat and ringing Messrs. Ibbs and
Willingham up on the telephone, but obstinacy rather
than courage made him discard this unmanly idea. He
pushed the door open and entered.

Inside all was cloistral gloom. He could detect a
number of cases of wine standing about, some with the
tops half off and straw emerging from within. As he
became more accustomed to the darkness, he also saw
hanging on the walls a quantity of objects resembling
framed pictures, except that where one would expect the
picture to be, there merely appeared the name of one
or other of the more celebrated brands of champagne.
But as for any sign of human life, that seemed to be
completely lacking.

He coughed.

As the echoes died away, a sallow gentleman with a
blue chin emerged from behind a pile of packing cases.
He looked the intruder up and down with a critical eye,
as if to decide whether the cut of his clothes would justify
him in speaking to him at all, or whether it would be
necessary to ring for him to be shown out. Apparently
Bill's tailor had succeeded in passing him off as something
approaching the required standard, for the sallow
gentleman spoke.

" Yes, sir ? " he said, in a hollow voice.

" I'm very sorry to trouble you," Bill began nervously,
" but I wondered if you could let me — if you could
oblige me, that is, with a syphon, or — or a few syphons.
Most unfortunately I've run out of soda-water, and as
I've got a man coming in to-night, I "

He broke off. The sallow gentleman had said nothing,
but his look silenced him. Though well aware that in
endeavouring to effect an exchange of Messrs. Ibbs and

88 BILL THE BACHELOR

Willingham's goods for his money, he was neither seeking
a favour nor offering an insult, Bill had all the sensations
of one who has committed an unpardonable breach of
good manners ; such feelings as a man might have, who
had (let us hope only in a nightmare) risen during the
sermon and asked the clergyman in a loud voice where
he bought his collars. He began to feel the perspiration
breaking out on the back of his neck.

The sallow gentleman raised his eyebrows, turned, and
disappeared again behind the packing cases.

It is impossible to say whether it was his intention to
leave his unfortunate customer to his fate, or whether
he had departed to seek some inferior attendant who
might permit himself to deal with the low kind of person
that Bill had shown himself to be, for scarcely had he
withdrawn than the door of the shop was again opened.
Not gingerly and respectfully, as Bill had opened it, but
with self-confident violence. And a tall figure wearing
a soft felt hat and a raincoat strode quickly in. He gave
a quick, penetrating glance at Bill Eraser, another rapid
look round the empty room, and then throwing his stick
up in the air and catching it again near the ferrule, he
brought the head down with a bang on the nearest case
of wine. And as he completed this manoeuvre he called
out in a loud, clear and penetrating voice, " Hi ! Shop ! "

Surely never before had Messrs. Ibbs and Willingham's
establishment echoed to such an extraordinary, such an
unprecedented sound. Bill Eraser drew back into a
corner, determined on no account to miss the scene
which must follow.

He had not long to wait. Almost immediately his
sallow enemy re-emerged from his hiding-place. He
seemed to be just on the point of giving Bill, as the
supposed originator of the two noises, what is generally
known as a piece of his mind, when he suddenly caught
sight of the new arrival. He had reached his conclusions
about that hat and coat in a flash.

" What do you want ? " he snapped.

One would have thought that anybody addressed in
that tone must either have left the shop within the next

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 80

five seconds, or have flung himself in an ungovernable
fury at the sallow gentleman's throat. But the new arrival
did neither of these things. He only smiled pleasantly.

" I want a bottle of whisky," he said.

The shopman seemed to shake his head, though almost
imperceptibly.

" We only sell whisky by the case," he remarked, and
was preparing, apparently, to withdraw once more, when
the new arrival addressed him again.

" I beg your pardon ? " he said, politely, but a little
grimly.

" I said, sir, that we do not supply single bottles."
Messrs* Ibbs and Willingham's representative's manner
was clearly intended to put a final stoppage to the
discussion. But in this it failed.

The newcomer went a little nearer to him:

" Why not ? " he asked.

In his corner by the door. Bill was beginning to enjoy
himself. Was it possible that he was to see his own
humiliation avenged so soon and so satisfactorily ? He
almost held his breath.

The sallow man seemed for the first time to be a little
uneasy, but he encouraged himself by another look at
that shabby raincoat, and answered :

" Because it is not our practice to do so."

" Then," said the man in the raincoat, " the sooner you
change that practice, the better. Here," he went on,
plunging his hand into his pocket and withdrawing it
with a sound as of half-crowns, " here is legal tender for
one bottle of whisky. Now, then, are you going to let
me have it, or not ? "

He had extended his flattened palm so as to exhibit
the coins, but as he finished speaking, his fingers closed
over them and his hand took the form of a wiry and
muscular-looking fist. The sallow man's jaw seemed to
drop. He gave one last desperate look towards Bill,
but Bill turned hastily away ; and the next moment he
heard him saying, with a miserable attempt at ease,
" Oh, well, sir, to oblige you, I don't see why I shouldn't
let you have an odd bottle."

40 BILL THE BACHELOR

*' I'm glad you look at it like that," said the stranger.

The sallow man stooped down and extracted a bottle
from some invisible recess.

" Sixteen shillings," he said, planting it on one of the
cases.

" Twelve and sixpence," replied the man in the rain-
coat.

Bill continued to listen in amazement, but something
still more amazing was to follow.

" Oh, very well," said the sallow man.

He had actually accepted the suggested reduction !

The man in the raincoat planked down his coins beside
the bottle.

" Wrap it up," he ordered.

And the sallow man wrapped it up.

This looked like the end of the entertainment, and Bill
was just preparing to slip out into the street, to resume
his quest for soda-water elsewhere, when the whisky-
buyer suddenly turned towards him, and raising his hat,
said :

" I beg your pardon, sir. I am afraid that I inter-
rupted you just now. Was there anything that you
were wanting ? "

He didn't exactly wink as he said this, but something
in his expression offered and invited confidence. It was
almost as if he had said out loud, " Come on ! Let's get
some more fun out of this blighter ! " Bill felt himself
responding.

" I was just trying to get some soda-water," he said.
" But there seemed to be some little difficulty."

" I can imagine that," said the man in the raincoat,
with an air of grave sympathy. " Would half a dozen
syphons do you all right ? " he added.

" Well, as a matter of fact, I only wanted one," said
BiU.

'* One," repeated the man in the raincoat, and this
time he really did wink. " Just let me have a syphon,"
he said, turning to the shopman. And the shopman,
his spirit completely broken, again stooped down in the
darkness at the back of the room and did as he was told.

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 41

In dignified silence Bill handed him a Treasury note,
received his change, and took his departure ; his retreat
being covered until the last moment by his strange felloAv-
customer. And then, as he breathed the cooler and
calmer atmosphere of the street, the full beauty of the
incidents which had led up to the jaundiced brigand's
discomfiture seemed to strike him afresh. With his
syphon clasped under his arm, the melancholy expression
had slipped from his face, ten years had gone from his
apparent age, and he began to laugh.

The man in the raincoat, the neck of his own bottle
projecting from one of its pockets, stood watching him
with a curious air of almost proprietary pride — a look
which we may come to know well later on, although no
longer directed at Bill. Seen in the clearer light of the
street — for this is the late spring — there can be no doubt
about the shabbiness of his clothing. And yet there
is nothing shabby about the man himself. He holds
himself well, his face is an educated face and a self-
disciplined face, and, for people who are interested in
such things where men are concerned, a good-looking
face too. Bill Fraser, emerging from his first attack of
chuckles, becomes suddenly conscious of the quizzical
examination wliich he is undergoing, and stops abruptly.

It is at this point in his recollection of the evening
that Bill's memory seemed afterwards to come on a
blank. He must have said something to the stranger
and the stranger must have answered him, and from this
they must have passed on to a knowledge of each other's
names. But was it Bill's suggestion or Austin Harvey's
hypnotism which resulted in their accompanying each
other back into Regency House and up in the lift ? It
is no use asking Bill, for he simply can't remember.
When his memory does begin to work again, they were
just entering his sitting-room.

" No," Harvey was saying ; " I don't know that I'd
go out of the way to risk being snubbed by that kind of
fellow any more than you or anyone else would. I'm as
cowardly as the best of us in the ordinary way, when it
comes to tipping waiters or asking the price of a suit.

48 BILL THE BACHELOR

But every now and then — and particularly when I'm
rather up against things — I suddenly feel that I've got
to go and put one of those bloated blighters in his proper

flace. I saw you going into that shop just now, and
saw that brute trying to insult you, and I just thought
we might get some fun out of it."

He stopped, and looked with an odd expression at the
bottle of whisky, which he was holding out in front of
him.

r " Only I wish I'd thought of asking for soda-water
too," he added. " That would have been even more
fun. Whisky's poison to me. Look here," he went on
suddenly ; " I'll tell you what. I'll sell it you."

" You'll seU it me ? " repeated Bill. " The whisky,
do you mean ? "

" Yes. Twelve and sixpence I paid for it, and for
twelve and sixpence it's yours. Come on, now. I'm
sure you can always do with a bottle of whisky."

" But "

" You must," said Harvey. '' That twelve and six-
pence has cleaned me out. I told you that I only went
and did silly things like that, when I was up against it.
Well, thinking it over, I've come to the conclusion that
I'd rather have the money. But, of course, if you don't
drink whisky either "

" No, no. Of course I'll take it off your hands. Why,
it was worth ten times the money to see you make that
fellow crumple up. Come on, hand it over."

" You're sure you do drink it ? "

" If I never did before," said Bill, avoiding a direct
confession of his abstemious habits, " I should start to-
night. Why, what do you suppose I wanted the syphon
for ? "

" That's true," said the man in the raincoat ; and the
exchange was made.

" Well, good-night," he suddenly added, picking up
his hat. ' I must be getting along." And he moved
towards the door.

" No, look here. I say, wait a bit " Bill began.

Somehow it seemed so impossible to let this man, who

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 48

had just confessed that five half-crowns stood between
him and destitution, disappear Hke this. Yet it wasn't
easy to offer help or put questions to some one who
seemed to be very nearly his own age, and to have been
very lately in his own rank in life. While he was still
floundering, the mysterious Harvey came to his assist-
ance.

" I'll stay if you're bored," he said. " I've nothing
else to do."

Bill suddenly remembered his dinner, and glanced at
the clock. In ten minutes George would be due at the
Corinthian, and he hadn't even begun to change. He
temporised.

" Do you mind waiting a minute or two, while I
dress ? " he asked.

" Why, certainly, if "

" Have a cigarette, then. I won't be a couple of
minutes."

So Austin Harvey helped himself from the box on the
mantelpiece, and Bill went through into his bedroom,
leaving the communicating door open.

Now what on earth did he imagine that he was doing ?

Just as he is still unable to explain exactly how it was
that Harvey first entered his flat, so he finds the same
impossibility in saying why, when he had got there, he
should have gone out of his way to press him to stay.
Had he some vague idea of — but no ; as he hastened
through his dressing, he was aware of a complete absence
of any idea as to what in the world he was going to do,
when, in the course of the next few minutes, the problem
should require its instant solution. There were people,
of course, who made rather a point of encouraging
adventures of this sort ; of allotting themselves the
principal parts in amateur Arabian Nights. Such
persons found no difficulty, apparently, in adopting the
mixture of patronage and impertinence which these
episodes require. But Bill had never been one of these.
Time and inclination had both been lacking ; added to
which, he strongly mistrusted his powers of getting him-
self clear of any such incident when its interest had been

44 BILL THE BACHELOR

exhausted, which is, after all, the real test for followers
of Haroun-al-Raschid.

Yet he had gone and asked the fellow to wait, and
when you do this to a man who has just announced that
he is on the verge of ruin, things become unpleasantly
complicated by a sensation of moral responsibility for
the fellow's future.

Or was this attitude of mind only another example of
his general unfitness for coping with life ?

Meanwhile, it suddenly struck him that things were
remarkably quiet in the next room. More than once
he paused in the rather noisy business of struggling
into a stiff shirt, and listened ; and the last time he was
seized with the suspicion that his guest was no longer
there. The uncertainty became intolerable. He lifted
up his voice.

" Hullo ! " he called.

The reply from the sitting-room was instantaneous.

" Hullo ! " shouted Harvey.

Dash it all ! He must say something else now. So,
for want of anything better, he called out :

" I'll be ready in another minute."

" If your dinner's at eight," the visitor called back,
" you're 'going to be late."

" Am I ? Why, what's the time ? "

" Five minutes past by your clock."

" Oh, Lord. I believe it's slow too."

" Yes, it is."

At this point in the conversation it came into Bill's
mind that his front stud, without which the completion
of his toilet was impossible, had mysteriously disappeared
from the place on his dressing-table where he was
convinced that he had just put it. Perhaps it had
got under his handkerchief, or mixed up with his
keys. He began lifting things up all over the table,
when suddenly he heard a familiar and fatal sound.
In moving something, he had obviously pushed the stud
over the edge, and it had, of course, rolled to its favourite
position under the back of the table

There was only one way of retrieving the brute when

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 45

it did this. One had to bend down and catch hold of
the dressing-table by its lower edge, which, as it was
also a chest of drawers, was about two inches from the
floor, and then, straining and groaning, with the blood
surging into one's temples, it was just possible, by
exerting all one's strength, to jerk it out from the wall.
Having done this, one could then recover the stud and
leave it to Mrs. Whalley to get the dressing-table back
into position.

He had bent down, and was bracing himself for the
preliminary heave, when an idea came to him. In a
strangled voice he called out once again.

l" I say ! " he shouted.

i" Yes ? " came the answer from the sitting-room.

" I say, be a good fellow and ring up my Club for me,
will you ? "

" Certainly. What's the message ? "

" Ask them to tell my guest that I'll be a little late."

" A little late. Right you are."

"Yes. Regent 3601. Thanks awfully."

Bill heard him repeat the number to the operator,
and then, setting his teeth, gave the necessarj^ jerk
to the chest of drawers. One corner slid away six
inches from the wall, he stretched his arm behind it,
and almost immediately had recovered the stud. And
then, as he scrambled to his feet, his visitor's voice came
through again from the next room.

" Is that the Corinthian ? " he was asking, and then
he gave the message.

" That's funny," thought Bill. A man must know
a small club like the Corinthian fairly well, to recognise
it straight off by its telephone number. Not very much
in it, perhaps, but enough to make him say, as he
returned to the sitting-room a few minutes later :

" You seemed to know that number pretty well ? "

" That number ? Oh, yes." Harvey seemed to
rouse himself from his thoughts. " My chief used to
live there, you see, when I was at the War Office."

" Oh," said Bill, adjusting the ends of his tie ; and
again he was thinking.

46 BILL THE BACHELOR

For the number of permanent bedrooms at the
Corinthian was very small, and the number which had
ever to his knowledge been occupied by a War Office
official was smaller still. In fact he could only call to
mind one such member. He tested his deduction.

" Do you mean Colonel Baxter ? " he asked.

" That's the fellow."

" Oh, then you're " Bill began, and then he

stopped. His mind was hovering round a second
deduction, and until he saw where it was going to lead
him, it might be better to wait. Yet his interest had
been aroused, and his even rarer curiosity. On the
other hand, there was George Lucas to be remembered.
One mustn't keep poor old George waiting any longer.

" Look here," he said finally, emerging from the bed-
room with a clean handkerchief, whose appearance
marked the conclusion of his dressing ; " if you're not
doing anvthing else, will you walk round with me to
the Club ? "

" Anywhere you like," answered Harvey, obligingly.

And so they left the flat again, and having scrambled
down the companion, rang for the lift.

" Baxter," Bill was thinking all the time. " Baxter,
... I wonder. . . ."

Old Major Baxter had held for countless years the
position of supreme Corinthian bore. Bill could re-
member well the smoking-room jokes, when at the
beginning of the war the news arrived that he had been
gazetted, with the rank of captain, to a post in the
Home Command. The suggestion had been put forward
among the younger and less experienced soldiers present,
that the War Office had made the appointment with
the deliberate and ingenious intention of accelerating
the training of recruits. For, it was pointed out, the
man could scarcely exist who would not strain every
nerve to escape, if only to the front, from the horror of
this intolerable old fellow's company. Other jokes there
had been of a similar nature, not all of them in equally

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 47

good taste. And then, as the years went on and the
mockers departed to their various destinies, these
pleasantries, together with Baxter himself, became
forgotten. At the rare and incomplete meetings which
took place among the junior Corinthians, there were
naturally other and much more interesting matters to
discuss than the fate of any of the Club bores.

It was towards the end of 1917 that Bill and others
became gradually aware, from the English newspapers
which reached them, of a growing boom in the stock of
a general named — you have guessed it — Baxter. Start-
ing quietly, the thing had in a short time reached
gigantic proportions. Special correspondents and
amateur strategists seemed to have conspired to spread
the glory of his name ; were continually suggesting that
such and such an apparent success must in fairness be
connected with the presence near the scene of operations
of Baxter ; deploring in the case of such and such a
failure that the affair had not been in the hands of a
man of the Baxter type ; or hinting that the Government

had its eye on a certain General B in its plans for

the formation of this, that, or the other important inter-
allied council. One newspaper even went so far as to
affirm that if the war were ever to be brought to a
successful conclusion, it could only be by the adoption
by the Supreme Command of what it described as
" Baxter methods."

In his distant outpost. Bill, attracted perhaps by the
memories which the name suggested — for even bores can
arouse thoughts of home — had followed the rise of this
impressive and much-boomed personage from its in-
ception. Yet when at length a hideous photograph
appeared to tell him that this was in truth his old
acquaintance of the Corinthian Club and no other, it
must be admitted that it found him quite unprepared
for the shock. He had stared at the portrait in amaze-
ment, and it had struck him, very forcibly, that of all
the extraordinary and unforeseen changes which had
been brought about by the war, this was one of the most
remarkable ; and he discouraged himself considerably

48 BILL THE BACHELOR

by reflecting how he had presumed to judge this man
by the faulty criterion of his manner and appearance,
and resolved to be more careful in future.

And yet, when at last, whether by the adoption of
Baxter methods or otherwise, the war did in fact reach
its belated conclusion, and when a few months later Bill
had been permitted to return to London and to make
use once again of his subscription to the Corinthian
Club, had he observed any outward change in the form
of the victorious Baxter ? Did he not, rather, appear
to Bill and his surviving contemporaries more odious,
insufferable, asinine, pompous and half-witted than he
had five years before ? To be perfectly fair to him, it
must be admitted that he had by now acquired such an
abounding store of conceit, that he no longer deigned
to inflict his exasperating presence on the humbler
members of the Club ; but no one who heard him, as
one could on occasion scarcely help doing, unburdening
himself to those whom he considered worthy of this
honour, could be under any illusion as to the existence
of any genuine improvement in his character or his
intellect.

During the months following the signing of the
Armistice, there was added to the countless other queues
which were then covering the face of the country, a
procession of distinguished soldiers, lining up, whether
willingly or not, for admission to limbo. Names which
had but a few weeks before been in the mouths and
newspapers of all, suddenly disappeared from both
almost as completely as if they had never been. An
autumn gale seemed to have scattered the golden oak-
leaves which in the summer of the year 1918 had reached
a profusion never before equalled in the world's history.
Public interest, fixed for too long in the same direction,
swung joyfully round to the exploits of prize-fighters,
cocaine-fiends and other civilian heroes. But in spite
of this, for the time being at any rate, the Baxter boom
remained unaffected. Baxter himself was transferred
from his post at the Horse Guards to a six-foot by four
desk in the Demobilisation Directorate, from which he

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 49

was preparing, apparently, to take a leading part in
what was in those days known as the Period of Recon-
struction. Rumours were heard that he was on the
point of standing for Parliament, that he was engaged
on the supreme work on the inner history of the war,
that he was to become the occupant of an important
embassy, that he was to join the board of a big shipping
trust. Meanwhile, he filled in his time by contributing
a weekly article to a Sunday newspaper, in which the
follies of the age were castigated with superb vigour
and in succulent detail. In one week he achieved the
signal honour of forming the subject of a question in
the House of Commons and of a joke in a new Revue.
Baxter stock was, in short, soaring.

And then, with the suddenness of all post-war slumps,
the end had come. The first sign of it had reached Bill
in the following manner. He was alone in the Ubrary
at the Corinthian one evening, reading his newspaper
and smoking his pipe. Suddenly the swing doors
parted and the great Baxter entered. A few years
earlier, Bill's instant action would have been to raise
his paper to an unnatural height and to affect an intense
absorption in its contents ; but times had so changed
that it did not even occur to him to do this now, and to
his amazement, he found himself being addressed.

" Most infernal stupid thing," said the general, in
his usual rather thick tones. " Government's gone
mad. Country go to the devil. What ? "

Bill made some nervous, non-committal sound, and
Baxter flung himself into the chair by his side.

" Getting the whole place in a thundering mess," he
growled. " Always coming along with their silly orders
and regulations. Never know where you are."

Bill laid down his newspaper, and tried to look
interested.

" Best feller I ever had under me," the general went
on. " Had him with me ever since pore feller got hit.
Eighteen months, I sh' think. Been invaluable to
me. Absolutely inval'ble. Worth ten men any time.
And what do they do ? Nevej cojisult jne. Oh, no,
P

50 BILL THE BACHELOR

Just come along with their damn-fool new scheme, and
— (here he endeavoured to snap his fingers) — the man's
gone. Never think of asking me. That's a fine way
to run things, isn't it ? "

" Do you mean to say that they've been demobilising
your staff ? " asked Bill. Though it hardly struck him
as unlike the way in which things were being done,
there was, all the same, something rather amusing in the
idea of some rival branch of the administration demobi-
lising Baxter's underlings, while he was supposed to be
demobilising the army in the field. Though he tried
to stop it, some hint of his thoughts must have crept
into his expression.

"It's no laughing matter, sir," said the general. " I
ask you, how are we to deal with all this Bolshevism
and unrest, if this is the sort of thing that happens ?
I'd come to depend on that man. You can't swap
horses like that, y'know. I've a good mind — I've a
good mind to "

He broke off with a hoarse, military growl. Poor
fellow, he had obviously no idea what he was going to
do about his trouble. And yet, in a way, it struck Bill
that he was taking an exaggerated view of the mis-
fortune which had befallen him. Had not the whole
lesson of the war been that no man was irreplaceable ?

" But, surely " he began, meaning, perhaps, to

offer some comfort of this description.

But clearly he had taken the wrong line. General
Baxter rose to his feet. " Bah ! " he roared, in a perfect
frenzy of baffled rage, and the next moment he had
turned and flung himself out of the library.

This extraordinary after-dinner interlude was, as has
been said, the first sign which reached Bill of the ap-
proaching shadow which was on the point of obliterating
the great Baxter. Never again did he offer his unsought
confidences on this subject, and indeed for many months,
even after he had resumed his old position as Club bore,
he seemed purposely to avoid him, as if he felt some
special reason for regretting his strange outburst.

However that may have been, the fact remains that

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 51

from the date of this interview General Baxter's relapse
into obscurity went forward with the utmost rapidity.
Without a syllable of explanation, his articles in the
Sunday newspaper ceased, and his place was taken by
a bombastic clergyman. In a scarcely less inexplicable
access of economy or efficiency, the War Office suddenly
put down the whole branch of which he had been the
nominal head, and for a second time gazetted him out,
this time with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. His
name vanished from the columns of the journalistic
gossips and diarists, his photograph was seen no more
in the illustrated papers ; no longer did he or his doings
form the subject of Parliamentary questions, and the
joke about General Backstairs was suffered silently to
disappear from the revue. Within the walls of the
Corinthian Club, Colonel Baxter was still known and
dreaded as an irremovable feature, but outside this
limited area his fame had been as completely erased
from the public memory as if he had never existed.

6

One can understand, therefore, the quickened interest
which his visitor's confession of his former connection
with this once famous character made Bill feel in the
visitor himself. What if he should prove to be the
actual indispensable, whose removal from General
Baxter's personal staff had been almost, it seemed, the
signal for his return to nonentity ? There might be an
interesting story here, if the fellow cared to tell it.

And so, as they reached the street, he returned to the
subject.

" Were you with Colonel Baxter long ? " he asked.

" A bit over a year," said the man in the raincoat.

" I wonder if you were the fellow he told me about,
that they demobilised without telling him. He was in
no end of a state about it at the Club one evening, I
remember."

" I don't believe he liked losing me," said Austin
Harvey. He gave a quick look at his companion, as if
to see how much he knew, almost how much he thought.

52 BILL THE BACHELOR

" And I didn't do myself much good by leaving him,
either," he went on at once, as though to interrupt some
further question which he seemed to expect.

" Didn't you ? " said Bill. " I should hardly have
thought he was a man that one would want to spend
very many years with."

Harvey smiled, possibly at the moderation of this
opinion.

" I didn't exactly say I was sorry to go," he said.
** In fact, to tell the truth, the very sight of him made
me sick towards the end. Where I made the mistake,
though, was in thinking that I could launch out on my
own."

" Launch out as what ? "

" As anything at all. No, I've tried my hand at
more jobs than I care to think of during these last few
years, but every time I was made to realise the same
thing. It's a most humiliating confession to have to
make," he went on, " but I'm afraid there's no doubt
about it now."

" No doubt about what ? " asked Bill.

" That I can't push myself in the way that I can push
other people. Eh ? You don't understand ? " He
shot one of his quick, appraising glances at Bill, and
added suddenly :

" Are you an employer ? "

" On a very small scale," said Bill. Was the strange
creature going to ask for a job now ? If so, he could
hardly have chosen a worse employer to approach.
But no ; apparently he wasn't.

" The scale doesn't matter," he said. " It's the
attitude."

Bill was left guessing what, if anything, he meant by
this remark, for he added nothing in explanation, and
they covered the rest of the short distance in silence.

And then, at the very steps of the Corinthian, an
impulse which had been hovering about him for some
time, but which he was quite under the impression had
just taken its final departure, suddenly returned with
overwhelming force.

THE RIGHT-HAND MAN 68

" Excuse my asking you," he said, " but are you
looking for a job of any kind ? "

" Yes," said the man in the raincoat.

" As anything particular ? "

" Yes," he said again. " As a right-hand man. Do
you want one ? "

The rapid, eager question and the penetrating look
with which it was accompanied, as nearly as possible
made Bill answer, " Yes." But he just stopped himself
in time.

"I'm afraid I could hardly run to one," was what he
actually did say. " They're rather luxuries, aren't
they ? "

" It depends," said Harvey.

" But look here. If you leave me your address, it's
always possible that I might hear of something. I only
wish "

" Oh, don't apologise," Harvey broke in. " I know
you'll do what you can. Here you are."

He pulled an old envelope and a piece of pencil out
of his pocket and scribbled his name and address. Then,
apparently as an afterthought, he added the words,
" Soda-water."

" That'll remind you who I am," he said. " Good-
night."

And immediately he had turned, and the felt hat and
raincoat were swallowed up in the crowd on the pave-
ment.

Bill stood for a moment on the steps, staring after him.
Ought he to have done something more ? Ought he to
have. . . . No, what more could he have done ? You
couldn't offer a fellow like that money. I mean to
say . . . No, of course you couldn't.

He thrust the scrap of paper into his pocket, shrugged
his shoulders, and passed on into the Club to join his
partner.

II

LESLIE

Isn't it strange that in the City of London, where
thousands of more or less intelligent persons make their
living almost entirely through their knowledge of the
principles of Supply and Demand, no one should yet
have succeeded in applying these principles to the
problem of the mid-day meal ? Every day that men
meet together in offices, the cry goes up, " Tell me where
I can get a decent lunch without being crushed to
death," and every day the piteous question remains
unanswered. And unanswered it must apparently
continue to be, even if this unattainable standard of
decency were abandoned. For not only is every kind
of communal eating-house, from the most distinguished
City club to the most stifling underground bar, full and
flowing over for five days in every week, but the steady
growth of Mammon is continually overwhelming even
the inadequate accommodation that there is, and re-
placing it, slowly but relentlessly, with the marble and
reinforced concrete of yet another bank or insurance
office. Perhaps when, like Midas, the City has turned
all its food into gold, it will be equally sorry. Mean-
while, unless you happen to occupy one of those luxurious
places of business with its own kitchen and its own
cellar, you will not need to be reminded how keen this
mid-day struggle for existence is, and how far from keen
the appetite which it produces.

When Bill Eraser first came to Pardon Court, he was
duly proposed and seconded for the City Pentagon, and
in four or five months he achieved the honour of member-
ship. If there had been no war, he would probably

54

LESLIE 55

have been fighting his way into its dining-room still, but
the war had proved too much for the City Pentagon.
After struggling gamely through a sea of debentures,
and emergency funds, and special guarantee bonds, and
all the other troubles which mark the approaching wreck
of a club, it had finally given up the contest and gone
down with all hands. Bill had been able to make use
of exactly six weeks of his membership, for which he
had paid from first to last at the rate of rather over
nine pounds a week, and when he came back to Pardon
Court again, he somehow felt that he had had enough
of City clubs.

So some days he went here and some days he went
there, and some days he tried having lunch at twelve
and some days he tried having lunch at three, and on
other days, I am afraid, he tried having no lunch at all.
And on the day following his twenty-ninth birthday he
tried the Golden Griffin.

The entrance to the Golden Griffin, whatever it was
like when its sign was first hoisted some four hundred
years ago, must now be very like the entrance to Hell.
A hot blast of cooking comes floating up an almost
perpendicular staircase, the walls of which are decorated
in vivid red and gold, and as you turn the first corner,
a sullen roar which traces its source partly to the lunchers
and partly to the ventilating apparatus, seems to sweep
over you like the terrifying sound which fills your ears
when you are being given chloroform. Indeed, by this
time, what with this noise and the thickness of the
atmosphere, you are already more than half anaesthe-
tised, and it is on this general insusceptibility to all
sensation which the management clearly relies in its
extraordinary assumption that it is conducting a place
of refreshment.

Bill went down the five flights of stairs — for the lift,
as usual, was out of order, — resisted the blandishments
of the young lady in the cloak-room and the other young
lady at the tobacco-stall, and passed into the restaurant
itself. To a less experienced eye the chance of ever
obtaining a seat amid that forest of black coats would

m BILL THE BACHELOR

have appeared faint indeed, and even Bill nearly turned
round and came out again ; but the knowledge that he
would find the same conditions prevailing everywhere
else kept him among the little knot of watchful pouncers
by the door, and in less than five minutes he had marked
down a luncher who had already reached his cheese.
Delicately and gingerly he edged towards him, and at the
critical moment, even as the luncher rose to brush the
crumbs from his swelling waistcoat, he slipped past him
and had taken his seat. Thus it is that in the present
century one begins one's lunch at the Golden Giiffin.

He put his hat under his chair and craned his neck in
all directions in search of the necessary waiter, and at
this moment he became aware of a strange familiarity
about the features of the man on his immediate right.
A pleasant face it seemed, but yet hardly one to have
attracted attention in the ordinary way. He gave quite
half a dozen cautious, exploratory glances at it before
the clouds which obscured his memory rolled away.
Then, suddenly, he remembered. Of course ; it was
Mr. Grahame. Even in his mind he gave him this
formal prefix, for he had not set eyes on him since the
age at which one applies it to all one's seniors ; but as
soon as he had done so, he realised that he was wrong.
He wasn't Grahame any longer. He was Lord — Lord
something. Longhurst ? Longbridge ? No, he'd got
it now. Lord Longwood.

What on earth was Lord Longwood doing in a place
like the Golden Griffin ?

And just as he asked himself this unanswerable
question. Lord Longwood turned towards him, and it
was immediately apparent that he was in turn going
through the agonies of a mental struggle to decide
whether he knew his next-door-neighbour or not.

Bill decided to take steps.

" I'm afraid you don't remember me," he said.

" Of course I do," answered Lord Longwood. " Why,
it's — yes, of course I do."

And quite clearly he did remember him ; all, that is,
except his name.

LESLIE «7

" I'm Alexander Fraser," Bill announced helpfully.
" The White House. You remember now, don't you ? "

" Bill Fraser," said Lord Longwood, much relieved.
" Of course. Of course."

They were jammed much too tightly against each
other to dream of shaking hands, but they both made
such appropriately sympathetic gestures as were possible.

" And how's — and how's " Bill could see him

remembering that his father and mother were dead.
" And how are you ? " Lord Longwood concluded.

" Splendid," said Bill, with meaningless enthusiasm.
" This is a funny place to meet you," he went on. " You
don't come here often, do you ? "

" Never been here before," answered Lord Longwood.
*' Shouldn't have come to-day, only my secretary's taken
the day off, and I got my appointments a bit mixed. I
say, does one ever get any food here ? "

" Sometimes," said Bill. " Hi ! Waiter ! "

Lord Longwood joined in his cries, and they ordered
the same lunch, in the hope that this would make it
easier for the waiter to remember about it.

" You live in London now, don't you ? " asked Bill,
when this excitement had died down.

" Oh, no. I don't live here," Lord Longwood ex-
plained. " But I've taken a house in Brook Street for
a bit."

Bill took this strange distinction to mean that he still
regarded Hare Hall as his headquarters. Why he should
feel pleased at this, he really hardly knew ; except that
it seemed the natural thing to feel, when he heard that
one bit, at any rate, of the surroundings of his youth
was still in its place. At one time he would have thought
it as impossible for there to be no Frasers at the White
House as for there to be no Grahames at Hare Hall, but
he knew now that change was the rule, not the exception.

" Your brother's married, isn't he ? " Lord Longwood
asked after a pause.

" Yes. He married during the war."

** And you ? "

" Oh, I'm not married," said Bill. He felt it incum-

18 BILL THE BACHELOR

bent on him to laugh as he said this, as if there were
something fantastically humorous about the idea of his
being married. And yet why should it be more in-
trinsically ridiculous in his case than in anyone else's ?
His laughter faded suddenly away.

" And you're still in Eraser's ? " asked Lord Longwood.

" Still keeping the flag flying," said Bill.

" Ah." And now it was Lord Longwood who smiled.
There probably did appear something slightly ludicrous
to anyone in his position in the idea of these curious
little businesses whose continuance was always more or
less of a struggle. Yet his smile, also, gave place to a
different look, as he said :

" I envy you in some ways, you know. It's a terrible
responsibiUty doing things on a big scale nowadays. A
terrible responsibility." And he seemed to cower for
a moment before the vision of it.

" Everything is still so unsettled," he went on. " You
can't trust people in the way you used to be able. You
can't find men who'll work without being watched.
There doesn't seem to be any — any stability about
people in these days."

Bill had the feeling that all round the crowded
restaurant the black-coated men were saying the same
thing, as they had said it every day during these last
years. But what did they or Lord Longwood expect ?
Ought one to take it for granted that alone of all created
things human beings were to suffer action without
reaction ? Or was it one of humanity's more admirable
limitations that it should always expect itself to rise
superior to these natural laws ?

But Lord Longwood was continuing.

" Do you remember Tidman ? " he suddenly asked.

" Tidman ? No, I "

" My father's secretary."

" Oh, yes. Of course."

" I took him on when my father died," said Lord
Longwood ; " and I'm bound to say he's never given
me anything to complain about. A thoroughly reliable
man. And now, what do you think he's done ? "

LESLIE 59

" What ? " Bill obliged with the expected query.

" Handed in his notice and booked his passage to
Canada."

There certainly was something about this action,
when considered in conjunction with the Tidman whom
Bill remembered, that seemed to justify Lord Long-
wood's tone of injured amazement.

" Why on earth did he do that ? " he asked.

" Just what I said to him," replied Lord Longwood.
" ' My dear Tidman,' I said, ' why on earth do you want
to do this ? ' And if you believe me, the only reason
that he could give was that it was the war. ' But my
dear Tidman,' I said, ' the war was over years
ago.' "

" And what did he say to that ? " asked Bill.

" Well, of course he couldn't say anything to that."
Lord Longwood gave a reminiscent smile at the success
of his repartee.

" Then he's not going ? "

" I'm afraid he is, though. I never could have
believed that fellow could be so obstinate."

Bill realised that some thought at the back of his
mind was trying to connect itself with this conversation.
A worrying kind of feeling, and, of course, nine times out
of ten when one starts in pursuit, the thought flickers
and vanishes. But there are exceptions, and this time
he pounced quickly, and caught it.

" Are you looking for a new secretary ? " he asked.

Lord Longwood glanced anxiously round to see
whether he were being watched. The hunted expres-
sion of the potential employer came into his face, as he
answered in a low voice :

" Well, as a matter of fact, I am."

" Would you object if I sent some one to see you ? "
asked Bill.

Having made his admission, it was difficult for Lord
Longwood to say straight out that his objection to such
a course would be intense and bitter. Nevertheless, he
tried to temporise.

" What sort of a some one ? " he asked.

eo BILL THE BACHELOR

" Ex-service man," said Bill. " Plenty of experience,
I should say."

" As a private secretary ? "

" I believe so. And as a right-hand man."

This phrase seemed to comfort and calm his lord-
ship.

" A right-hand man," he repeated. " Well, that's
really more how I should describe what I want myself.
You know, Tidman took a very great deal of work off
my shoulders, and it wouldn't be easy to replace him by
the ordinary kind of secretary."

" Then may I tell my man to go and see you ? "

" He'd better see Tidman," said Lord Longwood.
" Yes, send him along to Brook Street by all means.
Tell him to ring up first."

" Thanks very much," said Bill. " I have an idea he
might suit you, but of course I shall quite understand
if it doesn't come off."

Lord Longwood blinked graciously.

" We'll hope for the best," he said.

The conversation turned to other and more general
matters. Views were exchanged on the political
problems of the day. Vaguely by Lord Longwood,
tentatively by Bill, and ignorantly by both. In fact,
for the next twenty minutes or so, there was nothing
to distinguish their talk from the talk of the rest of the
smoky, overheated luncheon room. Several times,
during the occasional pauses which arose, a close observer
might have seen Bill Eraser draw in his breath as though
he were going to ask a question ; but whatever it was,
it never came, and presently they were paying their
bills, and wending their tortuous course towards the
doorway, and finally mounting the stairs which led to
the street.

At the top they both paused.

" Well, good-bye," said Lord Longwood. " I'm very
glad to have met one of you Frasers again. It's too bad
the way all one's old friends seem to disappear. Perhaps
you'll come and see us one day soon. I'll get Leslie to
ask you."

LESLIE «1

" Oh, thanks awfully," said Bill. " Yes, of course,
I'd . . . Of course."

" A week-end, perhaps ? "

" That would be delightful."

" Well, good-bye."

" Good-bye."

They shook hands, and Lord Longwood disappeared
into a taxi, while Bill walked slowly back towards Pardon
Court, staring aimlessly into shop windows, and escaping
the traffic at the various crossings purely by the inter-
vention of Providence.

Wasn't it ridiculous, he was thinking, wasn't it pitiful
that anyone could carry self-consciousness to such a
shameful degree ? Why couldn't he have said, in an
ordinary, casual tone of voice, " And how is Leslie ? "
and have got it over ?

Of course there was an explanation ; there is an ex-
planation of some sort, presumably, for most things ;
but how childishly inadequate this one was. Simply
that seventeen or eighteen years ago he and Leslie,
during one of her periodical visits to her grandfather's,
had entered into an absurd compact to get married.
The engagement, which, he remembered with a smile,
had been made entirely at Leslie's suggestion, had lasted
for less than the length of one of his summer holidays,
for the next time they met she had announced that she
was Robin Hood, and he had accepted this as an intima-
tion that the previous arrangement was off. Yet it had
been a good game while it lasted. They had planned
to take up their residence in the little thatched summer-
house in the garden of Hare Hall, and he could remember
still a terrible and sanguinary battle in which he had
engaged with Maurice, provoked by Maurice's intoler-
able assertion that this summer-house was really a wire-
less station, and belonged to him. In the ordinary way
there would have been undoubted attractions about
this scientific alternative, but as things were, the only
possible course of Action had been to fling himself in a
fury at Maurice's person. The end of the battle was
less clear in his memory, but it seemed unlikely that he

62 BILL THE BACHELOR

could have obtained any lasting advantage after the
surprise of his first onslaught.

Yet what had there been, after all, to differentiate
this game of setting up house from all the other games
of Roundheads and Cavaliers, and Greeks and Trojans,
and Catholics and Huguenots, which had kept the three
of them occupied during those distant summers ?
Nothing. That is, nothing at the time. But enough,
apparently, to cause him, seventeen years afterwards,
to behave in this contemptible manner when he again
met Leslie's father.

Yes, contemptible was the word. Self-conscious
idiot ; would anyone else on the face of the earth have
let this memory silence an ordinary, harmless question
about a young woman's health ? No, of course they
wouldn't.

Ass !

And Leslie must be twenty-four now ; perhaps getting
on for twenty-five.

He wondered what she was like. And he wondered
if they would really ask him down for the week-end.
If he went, he would see the White House again. Good
Lord ! what centuries ago it all seemed.

Frowning gently, he turned into Pardon Court,
climbed the stairs which led to his office, flung his hat
on to its usual chair, and sat down to write to the soda-
water man.

That evening he dined, as arranged, with Maurice and
Beatrix at their house in Kensington.

There was a certain ritual about these occasions which
served to distinguish them from other dinner parties.
In the first place, it was Bill's practice to arrive
approximately an hour and a quarter before the time
for which he had been invited. Neither his host nor his
hostess had ever raised any objection to this custom,
and indeed, since he did not trouble them in any way
until the official dinner hour, there was very little reason
why they should.

LESLIE 68

For when the front door was opened, Bill would waste
no time in asking whether Mrs. Eraser were in. He
merely smiled in a confidential manner at the parlour-
maid, and she smiled in a no less sympathetic manner
at him. Having accomplished this much, he would
hand her his hat and coat, and go very quietly up three
flights of stairs. At the top of these three flights there
was a curious little gate, with a concealed catch, but as
Bill had long ago learnt its secret, he was quickly inside
the fortifications.

His next move was to knock, always with the same
unvarying and peculiar rhythm, on a door which faced
the little gate. Then, if he were very quiet, he could
hear through the closed door a sound resembling a sub-
dued and gurgling kind of laugh, and taking this as
permission to enter, he would do so, and immediately
find himself in the presence of Sylvia.

Sylvia would be sitting in a . strangely high chair,
which had been drawn up to a table. Her visible attire
usually consisted of a red flannel dressing-gown and red
felt slippers, and she would be occupied in the assimila-
tion of a light supper consisting of milk and Marie
biscuits. To-night, when she sees Bill, she gurgles
again and twists the red felt slippers round the bars of
the chair with an ecstatic movement which he finds
singularly encouraging.

Sylvia's attendant and Sylvia's uncle then exchange
further sympathetic smiles, and the attendant with-
draws, though not without a reminder as to the duration
of the audience. Both Sylvia and Bill hasten to assure
this attendant that they will faithfully observe her time
limit, but while the latter always sets a splendid example
of resignation and self-control when the final moment
comes, as much cannot invariably be said for his niece,
though she has been known to fall asleep in the attend-
ant's arms in the very midst of her protests.

Now that they are alone together at last, the creature
in the red flannel dressing-gown returns to the leisurely
and slightly messy discussion of her evening meal, while
Bill, settling himself on a low but comfortable chair on

04 BILL THE BACHELOR

the opposite side of the table, takes up the thread of the
colossal serial story on which he has been engaged ever
since he was first permitted to attend these receptions.
This story has from the beginning always taken the form
of a fantastic autobiography, and for some reason or
other convention insists that the adventures with which
he describes himself as having met should always have
taken place during the day on which he recounts them.
Thus it is that the formula at whose command the serial
is resumed is always the same.

" Tell me what you did to-day, Bill," says Sylvia.

(This is how nieces address their bachelor uncles now-
adays.)

" Well," Bill begins, hastily gathering his thoughts
together, " as I took my ticket on the Underground this
morning, what do you think I saw just in front of me ? "

" Oh, what was it ? " asks Sylvia, already squirming
with anticipation, while her uncle tries quickly to make
up his mind whether it was a witch, or a dragon, or a
white cat.

" It was a young man," he finally announces.

Sylvia knows that this will be no ordinary young man,
so she shows no sign of disappointment at this un-
promising opening, but merely gives another wriggle.

" Yes," says Bill, gathering speed now. " And the
odd thing about him was that he was carrying a most
curious-looking hat, with a green feather in it — under
his arm."

" Not on his head ? " asks Sylvia, just as she is meant
to ask.

" No," replies Bill ; and then comes the explanation.
Needless to say, as chance would have it, he had got into
the same carriage with the young man, and the young
man had there confided in him that his apparent eccen-
tricity was due to his being in possession of the cap of
invisibility, which would, of course, have prevented
Bill or anyone else from seeing him if he had worn it in
the ordinary way. Encouraged by his new acquaint-
ance's reception of this intelligence, the young man had
added the information that he was in search of a Princess,

LESLIE 65

and that he was also, unfortunately, being pursued by
an ogre.

At this point Bill really got going. He had naturally
been anxious to assist the young man (whose name, by
the way, was Conrad, but W'ho is understood to have had
no connection with the well-known novelist) in the
difficulty in which he found himself, and as the young
man seemed singularly lacking in common sense and
initiative, he was able to make a number of very valuable
suggestions as to the uses to which the magic cap might
be put. Conrad had been more than ready to fall in
vnth these ideas, and a fine time they had had of it,
all round the Inner Circle. Sometimes Conrad had
worn the cap and sometimes, which was even more
thrilling, Bill had.

A series of indescribably exciting adventures had
followed, which might have lasted still longer, if there
had not been sounds from without as of the return of
the nurse. Bill leapt hastily to his climax. The ogre
stepped off the escalator with the wrong foot first and
was instantly killed, and at the same moment (according
to Bill) he had had the good fortune to recognise no less
a dignitary than the Bishop of London waiting on the
platform. Would he. Bill had asked, be good enough,
for his sake, to marry Conrad and the Princess at once,
as he was already rather late for his office ? Nothing,
apparently, would give the good Bishop more pleasure.
They had all adjourned instantly to the nearest City
church, and the happy couple had already been got
safely into a taxicab on their way to the bride's palace,
when the nursery door again opened, and niece and
uncle both realised that the end had come.

" And what happened then ? " asked Sylvia, with a
last attempt to prolong the evening's instalment.

" That's all that happened to-day," said Bill firmly,
and he was rewarded with an approving, if slightly
patronising smile from the nurse.

" But more happened another day ? " suggested Sylvia.

" Oh, yes. Lots more. Only it hasn't happened
yet, you see."

66 BILL THE BACHELOR

While Sylvia was*]! still thinking this over, the nurse
interposed.

" Now say good-night to your uncle like a good girl,"
she commanded.

Sylvia threw him a ravishing look.

" Good-night, darling Bill," she said.

The nurse, as usual, pretended to look shocked, but
Mr. Eraser didn't seem to mind.

" Good-night, darling Sylvia," he answered.

An embrace followed. Sylvia's contribution was

about fifty per cent, baby and fifty per cent, biscuit,
but Bill wouldn't have missed it for anything.

And so she was picked up and carried away, while he,
according to his customary practice, went downstairs
again ; but still not to trouble his host or hostess with
his presence. For Beatrix had yet to pay her own good-
night visit to her daughter before dressing, and as for
Maurice, when one is getting on at the Bar as well as
he was, one doesn't get home to one's family with much,
if indeed any time to spare before dinner.

Bill found his way into the drawing-room and took
up the evening newspaper which Beatrix never wanted
and Maurice never had time to read, and set himself
to acquiring an up-to-date knowledge of the world's
news. This, on this particular evening, seemed to
consist principally of some mysterious intelligence about*
an anti-cyclone, set off by a rapturous description of a
close finish at the Oval. In other words, there was no
news ; but bachelors know how to make the most of
their evening newspapers, and he was still, half an hour
later, contentedly digesting a column of pointless
repartees from the police courts, when he heard sounds
from below as of the return of the master of the house.
Beatrix must have been on the alert upstairs for the
same sounds, for he heard her almost immediately
calling down.

" Is that you, Maurice ? " Her voice was at the
same time lowered, so as not to wake Sylvia, and yet
reinforced, so as to reach her husband. It is hard to
say exactly how Beatrix managed this, but it is a gift

LESLIE 6T

which nice women seem to acquire when they become
wives and mothers.

" Hullo. Yes, darling ? " That was Maurice from
below.

This question and reply must have conveyed more
than would superficially appear, for the next thing that
Bill heard was a creaking on the stairs, and then, ap-
parently, husband and wife met on the landing outside
the drawing-room. There was a sound of kissing, and
he realised that the door must be ajar. Well, if they
were going to choose this place to become unduly con-
fidential, he would cough or rustle his newspaper.
Meanwhile it seemed best to leave them to themselves.

" Are you very tired, my pet ? " Beatrix was
asking.

Bill thought of Maurice, and particularly of Maurice
in Court, and smiled ; and then he thought of Beatrix,
and his smile changed.

" No, not a bit," Maurice was saying. " At least, I
shan't be after dinner. Is Bill here yet ? "

" Yes. He's been with Sylvia. I think he's down-
stairs in your room."

This, perhaps, was the moment for Bill's cough, but
while he was still hesitating, Beatrix had gone on again.

" Maurice," she was saying, " I heard something so
•nice to-day."

"What, darling?"

" Only I promised not to tell anyone, so of course if
you hear anything from anybody else, you must pretend
to be terribly surprised."

Not a protest from Maurice. Was this. Bill wondered,
what marriage had made of two people whom up till
now he had thought incapable of dishonesty or decep-
tion ? Apparently it was. He was so aghast, that he
had no longer the breath to cough, and before he had
recovered himself, it was too late. Beatrix was in the
middle of her story, and the only thing to do was to
stay where he was.

". . . . I think she was sorry that she'd said any-
thing, "Beatrix was saying, " and afterwards at the end

68 BILL THE BACHELOR

she came up to me again and made me swear to forget
all about it."

" Yes, but what did she say ? " Beatrix's oath
clearly meant no more to Maurice than it did to herself.
Where the interests of the firm were concerned, honour
was as naught.

" Well, when I was introduced to her," the first con-
spirator continued, " I remembered at once that she
was a kind of relation of his ; so I thought I'd ask her
if she'd heard how poor old Rowlandson was getting on."

" Well ? " Maurice was obviously so far as much
mystified as was Bill himself. There was. Bill knew, a
King's Counsel or a judge or something of that sort
called Rowlandson, but this alone would hardly account
for Beatrix's excitement.

" Well," she went on, " she said that nobody knew
yet, but as a matter of fact he couldn't possibly recover,
and he was going to resign."

Her voice was positively ghoulish as she said this.
Who could have believed it of the gentle, the sympathetic
Beatrix ?

" Poor old devil," said Maurice ; but to Bill, in his
shattered condition, his tones seemed to ring false.

" Yes, darling," continued Beatrix ; " and then she
said that there were only two men for the job ; you and
Sellars-Clarke."

" Yes ? " Maurice's interest had been gripped at
last.

" Well, don't you see ? If Sellars-Clarke is abroad
on that arbitration when Rowlandson resigns, they're
almost bound to offer it to you."

" Oh, no, they're not." But it was clear that Maurice
thought they might.

" Darling I You'd be the youngest Recorder in
England. I've looked it up. I should be so proud."

" Oh, rot ! Besides, she probably didn't know what
she was talking about." Maurice seemed to be trying
hard to hide his pleasure ; not with any great success.

"But, darling. The Lord Chancellor's wife! Of
course she knows everything ! "

LESLIE 69

And Bill, sitting alone in the drawing-room, felt con-
vinced that if Beatrix were the Lord Chancellor's wife,
as he had no doubt that she one day would be, she would
certainly know everything.

" You precious idiot," said Maurice. " It's a Home
Office appointment. Didn't you know that ? "

" I don't care. You'll see. You'll get it."

"Bosh."

Again there was a sound of kissing, and then together
they went upstairs — Beatrix, presumably, to finish her
dressing, and Maurice to carry out the busy man's
substitute for this process. His smoking- jackets had
for long been his younger brother's envy and admiration.

Bill tried to return to his newspaper, but it was no
good. He flung it away in disgust, and then (remember-
ing where he was) picked it up carefully and put it back
on the table.

Why should some people have lovely, channing wives,
who met them with kisses when they came back from
their work, and imperilled their souls so as to provide
them with cheering news, and supplied them with
adorable soft babies in red flannel dressing-gowns ;
while other people lived by themselves in flats, and were
sent out by their housekeepers to buy the soda-water ?

He wasn't really himself again until quite half-way
through dinner.

3

It was nearly a week later that Bill, returning one
evening to Regency House, found two letters waiting
for him on his sitting-room table, each addressed in an
unfamiliar handwriting, and each bearing a London
postmark.

" Dear Fraser,'^'' said the first one that he opened, " /
apologise for not answering yours of last Friday before.
The fact is that I was waiting to tell you the result of your
efforts on my behalf, which I am now glad to say that I
am able to do. Everything has been fixed up satisfactorily^
and I shall take over from Lard Longwood's present

70 BILL THE BACHELOR

secretary at once. This ought to he just the sort of job to
suit me, and I hope we shall soon be making things hum.
Many thanks again ; you have done more for me over
this than I expect you realise.

" Yours sincerely

" Austin Harvey.'^

Bill read this letter three times. First hastily, then
critically, and the third time with a sudden feeling of
panic. What on earth, he asked himself, as the paper
fluttered from his hand, had he been and gone and
done now ?

On Thursday evening he had met a man in a wine-
shop, whom he had never seen before in his life and
about whom he knew nothing, unless one were to allow
a possible connection between him and the Corinthian
Club bore. At lunch time on the following day he had
gone out of his way to recommend this complete stranger
to fill a responsible and confidential post in the establish-
ment of a man whom he hadn't seen for well over ten
years, and about whose habits and requirements he
was completely ignorant. So far he had merely been
an inconsiderate busybody ; but what did he become
when the appointment which he had lightly suggested
had been actually made ? An awkward question, this.

He tried to comfort himself by reflecting that the
selection of Lord Longwood's new secretary had, after
all, been made by the departing Tidman. There had
been no compulsion on Tidman to approve this particular
nominee. If it came to that. Lord Longwood might
have put an advertisement in the newspapers and still
have found himself saddled with this Harvey fellow,
without any interposition on Bill's part at all. He
imagined himself adopting these arguments when the
new secretary should have admitted a gang of burglars
into the house in Brook Street and he were called upon
for an explanation, and, to tell the truth, he didn't seem
to see them meeting with much success. Something
really ought to be done about people who, at his age,
could go and do such an unnecessarily silly thing as this.

LESLIE 71

And yet, when he recalled the look of the man as he
had stood last week in this very room, one couldn't help
being impressed by him. Surely he had had enough
experience by now to know an out and out impostor
when he saw one. Or had he only been waiting for a
clever enough rogue to come along, to be deceived as
completely as the most gullible Labour Exchange ?

TJhere was certainly nothing to complain of about
the letter itself, except for that rather alarming reference
to making things hum. A private secretary who made
things hum, and whose intention it apparently was that
his employer should join liim in this recreation, would
be, it seemed to Bill, the last kind of private secretary
that Lord Longwood would want.

This, he told himself with some annoyance, was what
came of trying to help people.

Yet the thing was settled now, and it wouldn't be
improving matters to follow up his original recom-
mendation by filling Lord Longwood' s ears with belated
and quite probably unjustifiable suspicions.

He turned to the second envelope.

*' Dear Mr. Fraser^

" My father has asked me to say that^he would be so
pleased if you could come down to Hare Hall for the week-
end beginning on the 28th. If you are free, will you let
me know what train you are coming by and we will meet
you at Wordingham.

" Yours sincerely

" Leslie Grahame.''^

Perhaps it was the ruffled condition into which
Harvey's letter had thrown him, which made Bill
instantly begin picking holes in this second communica-
tion. At any rate he did ; and very unreasonable
holes they were. For after all, when a young woman
hasn't seen a young man since the days when he was
a comparative and she was a positive child, must she
necessarily write to him as " Dear Bill " ? One wouldn't
have thought so. But Bill didn't or wouldn't see this.

T2 BILL THE BACHELOR

All he knew was that for the best part of a week he had
been thinking of an imaginary personification by her
Christian name, and that it came as a distinct, even
though ridiculous rebuff, to find that the personification
had been thinking of him as Mr. Fraser. And having
got thus far, it was but a step to find fault with the
opening words of the letter. Why would only her
father be pleased if he came ? Why couldn't she say
that she would be pleased too ?

From these evil constructions of his own imagination
he began to picture an appalling type of conceited
nouveau-riche heiress, whom it would be his duty, his
regrettable duty to snub. (N.B. Bill had never
snubbed anybody in his life.) He even, standing there
beneath the sitting-room lamp, built up a wonderful
scene in which he was to tell Miss Grahame — if that
was what she wanted to be called — that he was quite
unable to recall the incidents of their early days of
which she had been trying to remind him. And then,
when he had extracted the last ounce of enjoyment out
of these visions, he sat down and accepted the invitation.
He wrote to Dear Miss Grahame, in fact, and said that
he should look forward very much to seeing Hare Hall
again, and that -he would be arriving at Wordingham
station by the 5.40 train. And having nothing else
particular to look forward to for the next three weeks,
or indeed the next three years if it came to that, he
began looking forward to this approaching return to
the scenes of his youth, and, as was his simple custom,
he presently confided his anticipations to his brother
and his partner.

Maurice said : " Find out who is living at the White
House now, and what they'll take to clear out. I mean
to get that place again sooner or later."

" Oh," said Bill. " All right. Yes. Certainly."

Maurice himself, of course, would have thought
notliing of calling on a set of entire strangers and asking
them the price of their home, and the chances would
have been that before he left, they would have named
a figure. Bill didn't see himself going quite as far as

LESLIE y«

this, but he undertook to make what enquiries he could.
There was no immediate point in his confessing that he
also had had dreams of regaining possession of the White
House, for in his own case the idea was so obviously
impracticable, and brothers, as is well-known, have a
horrid habit of laughing at one. Besides, the Cattersons
were probably still there, and with every intention of
remaining.

George Lucas received the intelligence in his own
characteristic manner. That is to say, that his only
immediate comment was the word " Ha ! " uttered in a
loud and uninterested tone. But about ten minutes
later, having spent the interval in deep thought, he
suddenly added :

" You'd better marry the daughter. There's lots of
money there, I should think."

Of course the dignified thing would have been to
treat this mercenary suggestion with the silent contempt
which it deser\^ed. But where is the man who would not
have risen, as Bill instantly rose ?

" I haven't the faintest intention of marrying the
daughter," he said.

George's opening was almost too easy.

" Well, I don't suppose she'd have you," he an-
swered.

Bill made a last, belated attempt to recapture his
dignity, but the task was hopeless.

" I wish to goodness, George," he broke out, " that
you'd ever let me go anywhere or see anyone without
everlastingly talking about marriage. If you're so
infernally keen on it, why don't you get married your-
self ? Heaven knows you're ugly enough."

One may seek in vain for any logical process at work
behind this outburst. It is sheer waste of time to
ponder on the connection between George's ugliness
and George's marriageability, for none existed. Bill
had only seized on the first means at hand to emphasise
his annoyance at this ridiculous and unnecessary sugges-
tion, and in such circumstances logic could, in his
opinion, jolly well look after itself.

74 BILL THE BACHELOR

George, however, merely continued to beam through
his spectacles.

" A palpable hit," he remarked.

And Bill was left guessing to which of their efforts
he was referring, and also to suffer certain undisclosed
pangs of remorse, because, after all, it is hardly fair to
twit ex-black-sheep on the grounds of their celibacy.
Perhaps George was remorseful too. At any rate, it
was he who at this point introduced the uncontroversial
subject of the Bank Rate, on which they could both
work off any remaining exasperation in complete
agreement.

And so, at length, the Saturday of the invitation
arrived, and we find Bill, with his suit-case safely
bestowed in a taxi, rapidly approaching Charing Cross
station. Already there is a set look about his expression,
which indicates that he has braced himself to meet the
inevitable shocks which are entailed by a journey into
one's own past. He flatters himself that he is prepared
for anything, but there is no point in being off one's
guard. He is ready to find that Hare Hall and his old
home and the whole surrounding country have dimin-
ished by forty per cent, in size since he last saw them,
but he will face this like a man. If he is lucky enough
to discover anything unchanged, he will be grateful ;
if not, he will be resigned. And above all, whatever
the provocation, he will on no account become vocally
reminiscent. That he has sworn.

There was no change about the beginning of the
journey. The South-Eastern Railway still adopted its
unique and hesitating manner of leaving London ; the
train paid its customary visit to Cannon Street, and
crossed the river three times before it eventually got
going. But at last it was fairly under way. Look,
there was the Crystal Palace. Bless its dear old heart 1
In spite of all his good resolutions, he found his excite-
ment growing.

But there was_ plenty of time in which to go through
rapidly recurring phases of exhilaration, depression and

LESLIE 76

calm, before the train reached the tunnel which, as he
knew, heralded the arrival of Wordingham station.
First the tunnel, then the cutting with the foot-bridge,
then the goods sidings, and then, yes, here it was, the
station itself. A porter appeared outside the carriage
window, shouting the traditional sound which was
supposed to represent " Wordingham," and Bill looked
eagerly at him, already prepared to be pleased or
saddened, according to whether he could remember his
face or not. The disappointing thing was that, after
all, he couldn't be certain. The porter looked so like
other porters, and, more unfortunately still, had taken
this scrutiny of his features to imply that his services
were required. He broke off in the midst of his recita-
tion and opened the carriage door. Bother ! This
would mean sixpence at least.

" Anything in the van, sir ? " asked the porter.

" No," said BiU. " I think there's a motor to meet
me. From Hare Hall."

The porter was visibly impressed. He would probably
expect a shilling now.

" This way, sir," he said.

Bill gave up half his third-class ticket and followed
him through the booking haU. Outside there was an
enormous, black limousine, with a coat of arms on the
panel of the door. The porter seemed to recognise it,
for he handed the suit-case to the chauffeur without a
word. The chauffeur touched his cap. Bill half-
thought of saying, " Good-afternoon," but it would be
terrible if the chauffeur didn't answer, so he said nothing.
Instead, he plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled
out his loose change.

This was unlucky. Three half-crowns and two
pennies. And all the porter had done was to carry one
small suit-case perhaps twenty yards. Three halfpence
a yard that was, for one couldn't offer him twopence in
these days, and one couldn't, or at least he couldn't ask
for change with the chauffeur watching him all the
time.

" Thank you, sir," said the porter.

7« BILL THE BACHELOR

" I suppose he thinks I'm a profiteer," thought Bill,
a little ruffled. " This comes of visiting millionaires."

The limousine moved slowly away, and then, driving
the thought of the porter and everything else out of his
head, came the first of the unexpected shocks. A large,
vermilion omnibus, twin sister to the thousands which
he had left behind in London, ground majestically past
the station entrance. All his good resolutions were
instantly forgotten. A motor-omnibus in Wordingham
High Street ! How perfectly and absolutely intolerable.
Was it for this that England had won the war ?

The limousine was gathering speed now, and hardly
had the omnibus passed out of sight when a fresh horror
burst on his eyes. Right opposite the town-hall, too.
" Wordingham Picturedrome de Luxe " indeed ! Was
that the kind of thing that his absence had encouraged ?
There had been an almost perfect Georgian house there
before ; he could remember it well. How could such
things be allowed ?

But once outside the little town, he had a chance to
recover himself. The outskirts of Wordingham had
never been beautiful, but the war had prevented them
from spreading ; and presently he was comforted by
coming on the mysterious galvanised-iron chapel, which
had shown no single sign of life during all the years that
he had known it, and now still stood, embowered as ever
in nettles, but otherwise defying the ravages of time.
The carrier's cart, too, which was drawn up outside the
Barley Mow at Sticklebridge, might have looked the
same even fifty years ago, but for the tell-tale advertise-
ment of motor spirit that was pasted on its hood. He
let himself be consoled. Perhaps the heart of the
country was still really sound.

There was a temporary relapse into modernity as the
car flashed through a group of half-built villas, but after
this, subject to the general reduction in scale which he
had anticipated, there was no more to complain of.
The old black barn near the bottom of the hill, its road-
ward end plastered as ever with notices concerning wild
birds and swine fever, was, as it had been in the days

LESLIE 77

of the White House's first and only car, the signal for
changing into second speed. But the big limousine
rushed up the incline in a way which that four-cylinder
pioneer had never attempted, and almost before he
could realise what had happened, it had dashed through
the lodge gates, swung up the short, twisting drive, and
stopped before the front door.

A strange butler, with a silver ex-service badge in the
silk lapel of his coat, appeared and opened the door of
the car. Bill pulled himself together and got out. And
then, as he passed through the little entrance hall, there
was wafted out to him from the cloak-room on the
right, a faint yet familiar scent of Harris tweed, and for
a moment the years since he had last been in this house
had suddenly rolled away. Is there anything, one
wonders, like the human nose for playing these tricks
with one's memory. An all-but-forgotten tune can do
a good deal, it is true ; but for the sheer illusion which
can set time at defiance, commend me to the all-but-
forgotten smell.

Bill would have liked to prolong this moment by
taking another sniff, but already the butler was waiting
for him by the inner door. As he drew level with him
again, he murmured something about going and telling
somebody, and disappeared. Bill found himself alone
in the big, low-ceilinged hall.

He became conscious that somebody was playing
the piano in what used to be, and probably still was, the
drawing-room. It sounded rather like Chopin. But
while he was still trying to decide whether it were real
Chopin, or only a Chopinesque improvisation, the music
ceased. Through the open door there came the sound
of footsteps on the parquet ; they drew nearer, and the
next moment he was being greeted by Mr. Austin
Harvey.

" Hullo," he was saying. " I thought I heard some
one."

" Hullo," said Bill. In all his imaginings about his
coming visit to Hare Hall, he had probably pictured
every kind of reception except this. And yet, why

78 BILL THE BACHELOR

shouldn't Lord Longwood have his private secretary
down here, if he wanted to ? He dismissed his unreason-
able feeling of displeasure.

" How are you ? " he added.

" Splendid," said the new secretary. " Lord Long-
wood's coming down by the next train," he went on.
" The others are playing tennis. Have you had tea ? "

"Yes, thanks," said Bill. He hadn't really, but it
was six o'clock,']and he didn't particularly want to have
it by himself.

" Then shall we come out ? " suggested Harvey.

" Yes. Let's."

Bill followed him through the drawing-room, out of
the French windows, and across the terrace, yielding
his keys to the returning butler on the way. At the
bottom of the terrace steps he tried to go to the right,
to where the old grass courts used to be, but Harvey
stopped him.

" This way," he said, and he led him along the path
to the left, towards a door, which in Bill's time had
opened on to a kind of desert at the back of the stables.
But the desert had vanished. In its place a high wire
cage enclosed a smooth, brick-red rectangle. The whole
space had been given over to two hard courts. At the
far end of the cage two young women were engaged in a
furious single.

Harvey and Bill crept stealthily round the edge, so
as not to distract their attention. Harder and harder
the ball went swooping backwards and forwards over
the net, until suddenly, one of the players, with a super-
human mis-hit, skied it right out of the ground.

" Yow ! " she yelled, as it flew away ; and then,
*' Deuce again. Curse you, Leslie ! "

So the other one was Leslie.

Bill wondered if he would have guessed. She wasn't

the least like what he had imagined. She was more

But the creature of his imagination had already
evaporated, and he was left without a basis of com-
parison. A little breathless, for some reason, too.

She had caught sight of him through the netting.

LESLIE 79

" Hullo, Bill ! " she called out, waving her racquet
in the air.

Bill, mark you. Why shouldn't he say, "Hullo
Leslie ! " ? He would.

He did.

" Sit down while we finish the set," she went on. " I'll
shake hands with you afterwards."

So Bill and Harvey found their way to a teak bench,
and the battle reopened. Leslie won the next two points
easilv-

" Five all," she announced. " Sudden death ? "

" Oh, rather," said her opponent.

Bill suddenly became passionately keen for Leslie to
win this last game. But she didn't. She lost every
point, and her defeat was signalised by barbaric cries of
triumph from the other side of the net.

" Now, then," said Leslie, and she led the way to
the door of the cage. Bill found himself shaking
hands.

" Now I'll introduce you all," she went on. " This
is Mr. Eraser. Mr. Harvey you know, don't you ? And
this is Miss Lorden."

This, at least, was what she actually said. But Bill
was no exception to the common rule which makes
otherwise intelligent people incapable of listening to
introductions. He didn't really discover Angela
Lorden's name until the Sunday afternoon, when,
driven desperate by the fact that Leslie called her
" Wog," and everybody else called her " you," he took
Harvey aside and got the thing straight at last.

They stood discussing the game for a minute or' two,
and then Leslie said :

" Now, then, Wog ; what about your luggage ? "

*' Well, Leslie darling, I'm sure it started with me.
But I swear it wasn't there when we arrived. I had
the whole train searched."

" Was it labelled ? " asked Harvey.

" It was all over labels," said Wog. " That was
just what was wrong with it, I think."

" Was it locked ? " he went on.

m BILL THE BACHELOR

' " No, it wasn't locked," said Wog, thinking hard.
" But I've got the key," she added hopefully.

" Pull yourself together, Wog," said Leslie. " Did
you ever have a box at all ? "

" Oh, yes."

" Then it's at the junction. I suppose you didn't
think of looking for it when you changed ? "

" I'm awfully sorry, Leslie."

"No, you're not. And, what's more, I believe you
did it on purpose, so that you could wear my clothes"

" But they're so much nicer than my own," Wog
protested. " Aren't they, Mr. Fraser ? " she added,
turning to Bill.

Bill was spared the difficulty of answering, for Leslie
broke in.

" That's enough," she said. " Now I'll tell you what
you've got to do. Mr. Harvey will drive you over to the
Junction in the two-seater, and he'll find your box for
you and see that you bring it back."

Wog looked doubtfully at her suggested escort.

" Do you know the way ? " she asked.

" Not yet," said Harvey.

This seemed to encourage her. The thing was to be
an adventure after all.

" Come on, then," she said.

" Mr. Harvey ! " Leslie called after them, as they
started towards the stables.

"Yes?"

" You're not to let her drive. Not even if she goes
on her knees."

" Beast ! " shouted Wog. And they disappeared.

" Now, then," said Leslie, turning to Bill. " Shall
we go and look round ? "

This, of course, was what he was longing to do, and
he said so.

" Well, bring my racquet, then," she ordered.

He picked it up and followed her.

LESLIE 81

5

As he moved forward to open the door back into the
garden, she suddenly stopped.

"What's this tune called?" she asked. And she
hummed what one might judge to be about six bars of
some kind of dance music.

Words can hardly describe the desire which Bill felt
to be able to answer her question. But the days had
long since passed when it had been the natural thing
to keep abreast of popular songs. He had to confess
his ignorance.

" I'm awfully sorry," he said, " but I'm afraid I don't
know it."

Perhaps he had taken her too seriously. At'any rate
she smiled.

" Oh, it doesn't matter as much as all that," she said.
And then, as if to take his mind off his failure : "I say,
shall we go and look at the White House ? "

" I'd love to," said Bill. " But what about "

"What?"

" I mean, who is living there now ? Will they mind? "

" It's empty," said Leslie. " Papa bought it, you
know. But he can't find any one to take it. At least,
not any one that he likes."

It seemed almost too easy for Maurice, and yet Bill
was unreasonable enough to hope that Lord Longwood
was holding out for a stiff price. Even the original dog
may have had sentimental reasons for wanting that
manger.

They left the garden and took the footpath across the
two fields. Bill was prepared to find desolation on the
other side ; straggling hedges and weed-covered paths ;
but as they drew nearer, he saw that there was nothing
apart from the curtainless windows to show that the
place was unoccupied. The garden, indeed, looked con-
siderably tidier than it had been when he lived there,
and the house must have been quite recently white-
washed. On this sunny evening, the whole thing took
on the air of a dream. Almost he could imagine that
the next moment he would see smoke curling from the
F

8f BILL THE BACHELOR

kitchen chimney ; look again, perhaps, and find that
he had been wrong about those windows. As they
reached the lawn, he had a feeling that the slightest in-
tangible obstacle had only to be broken down, and the
years would in very fact have dropped away. A ghostly
feeling. Comforting, yet vaguely disquieting.

He was recalled by Leslie's voice at his side.

" Bother ! " she was saying. " I've gone and for-
gotten the keys."

" What ? Oh, never mind the keys."

" But you'd like to go in, wouldn't you ? '*

" Yes, of course. But "

" I know what," she interrupted. " If you can
climb up on the porch, you can open that window and
let me in at the back door."

There was that in her voice which commanded him
to make the attempt, however much he might doubt his
capabilities as an amateur housebreaker.

" Right you are," he said ; and, dropping the tennis
racquet, he took a flying leap at one of the wooden pillars
which stood on each side of the miniature portico. He
was conscious of encouraging cries from below, as he
finally toppled over the edge on to the lead roof.

" What about the window ? " asked Leslie, standing
on tip-toe.

" That's all right," he called down, as he saw that the
catch was unfastened. " I won't be a minute now."

He stooped down and pulled up the sash, and the
next instant he found himself in his father's old dressing-
room. Some infernal people, presumably the Catter-
sons, had gone and re-papered it. And whether
through rage at this discovery, or as a result of his recent
exertions, or owing to a kind of indefinable excitement
which had been growing on him ever since his arrival,
he found his heart beating violently and uncontrollably.
He had to steady himself for a second against the wall.
But only for a second. The next moment he had dashed
out of the room, through the baize-covered door at the
end of the passage, and was clattering down the back-
stairs. The ground floor was darkened by closed

LESLIE 88

shutters, but he could have found his way blindfold.
The key was in the back door, and turned easily. He
shot back the bolts and flung it open.

*' Is Mr. Alexander Fraser at home ? " asked Leslie.

" He only •wishes he were, miss," said Bill. For a
moment he thought he might have to explain, and
wished devoutly that he had said something else. But
Leslie threw him a quick look of understanding.

" Perhaps he would let me look over the house ? "
she said.

She didn't wait for him to carry the game any further,
but slipped in past him, and he followed her along the
passage. In the hall he found her waiting by the foot
of the stairs.

" Do you remember the avalanche ? " she asked.

" The avalanche ? Oh, yes. Rather." He began
to laugh.

How many years was it, he wondered, since that
historic wet afternoon when Leslie had come over to
tea, and they had all taken advantage of his parents'
absence to indulge in mountaineering on the front stairs ?
It had been the visitor's idea to hurl the hot-water cans
from the bathroom at Maurice and himself, as they made
their arduous ascent. The realism of the scene had been
tremendous ; the mess, indescribable ; but punishment,
in spite of a full and frank confession from the instigator
of the avalanche, had fallen entirely on the brothers
Fraser. For nursery justice is ever rough and wild,
and never more so than when some one comes to tea.

" There ought to be a damaged banister somewhere,"
said Bill, peering about for it.

" I'm sorry," Leslie apologised. " I'm afraid it's
been mended."

" Oh, well ; never mind."

But he did mind, rather.

They went on again into the drawing-room, into the
dining-room, into what had been Robert Fraser's study,
and so up the back-stairs again to the bedrooms. In
his father's dressing-room he moved across to the window
and began to shut it, but Leslie stopped him,

84 BILL THE BACHELOR

" You'll have to get out again that way," she reminded
him.

All the time, as they went from room to room, Bill
had the feeling that if only he could move quickly
enough, if only he could, as it were, take some part of
the house by surprise, he must find something which
he wanted and yet feared to find. An uneasy kind of
feeling, which made him linger by himself, and
then come darting after Leslie, so that they were
continually becoming separated and then meeting each
other again, and taking up little snatches of interrupted
reminiscence.

" Which was your room ? " she asked, as they reached
the attic floor.

" In here," said Bill, now leading the way ; and a
moment later : "I say. Look here." He was pointing
to an almost invisible hole in the comer, near the skirt-
ing.

" What's that ? " asked Leshe.

" Maurice did that with his tool box. It goes through
into his room. We used to have a piece of string
through it for signalling with."

" For signalling what ? "

" Oh, anything. One for A and two for B, you
know." He gave a chuckle. " Maurice used to call it
the telephone."

"The telephone." She laughed too. "But that
was nothing for Maurice. Don't you remember his
Marconi station in our summer-house ? "

Did he not ? And he remembered a great deal more
than this. So also, perhaps, did Leslie, for she suddenly
looked at her wrist -watch, and said :

" I say, it's terribly late. I'd no idea. Will you
come down and let me out ? "

They both hurried downstairs, as if to get away from
dangerous ground.

As Bill shot the bolts to again, all the ghosts which
had been lurking behind doors and round corners seemed
to make a rush for him, and he realised afterwards that he
had ducked his head and fairly dashed for the window

LESLIE 86

over the porch. He pulled the sash down behind him,
and, lowering himself over the edge, slithered down one
of the pillars to the ground. Leslie was standing, swing-
ing her racquet in her hand, on the edge of the lawn.

" Did it make you feel very old ? " she asked, as Bill
joined her.

" Old, and dirty," he said, showing her his hands.

" Come, along, then, and you shall see your room."

They crossed the fields again in silence, but as they
came through the little gate which led into the garden
of Hare Hall, Leslie suddenly said :

" This Mr. Harvey that Papa's got hold of ; have you
known him a long time ? "

" No," said Bill. " I'm afraid I hardly know him at
all, really. I hope he's settling down all right? "

" Oh, Papa thinks a lot of him. But he's odd, don't
you think ? "

" In what way ? " asked Bill.

But he never got any answer. For at this moment
a black spaniel came dashing towards them, and Leslie
gave herself up to welcoming it in the curious dialect
which she had always reserved for her dealings with
animals. That is to say, it would probably sound
curious to any human being who heard it for the first
time, but there is no doubt that it always went down
remarkably well with those for whom it was intended.
The spaniel danced up to them and danced away again,
and then ran round them, and then ran behind a tree,
and then began all over again ; its idea being, appar-
ently, to keep on pretending that it was meeting them
for the first time.

In this manner they arrived again at the front door,
and as they did so, the big limousine once more came
swinging round the corner of the shrubbery, and as it
stopped. Lord Longwood got out. He shook hands
with Bill warmly, but he seemed a little preoccupied.

" Is Harvey anywhere about ? " he asked Leslie.

" He went off to help Wog to find her luggage," she
answered. " She'd lost it again. But I'll see if he's
back."

80 BILL THE BACHELOR

She went off into the house and Lord Longwood
followed her. Bill found himself left alone in the hall,
from where he was presently rescued and taken to his
room by the butler.

" Dinner is at a quarter past eight, sir," he informed
him.

" Thank you," said Bill.

This left him about with three-quarters of an hour
before he would be expected to re-appear, and, wandering
round the room, he saw that his diary had been unpacked
and placed on the writing-table, which stood, as bedroom
writing-tables generally do, in the darkest corner. He
decided to fill in some of the time by bringing this diary
up to date.

The history of Bill Eraser's diary is a common enough
story. He had been given the first volume for a Christ-
mas present when he was fourteen, and had made the
first entry on the following first of January. His
friends and family did not trouble to conceal their
opinion that if he carried on with his self-appointed
task until the middle of February, it would be as much
as, if not more than, was to be expected. But Bill had
inherited from his father more than a share of the
latter's powers of misplaced obstinacy. He took a
terrible oath that, come what might, an entry of some
sort should appear in that diary under every date for
the whole of the year ; and when he had achieved this
— for he did achieve it — instead of letting himself
depart in peace, what must he go and do, but order
another volume of the same series ? And thus the story
went on.

Every first of January the same superstitious fear of
appearing weak-minded made him begin his dreary
narrative again, and every thirty-first of December
another volume of completely unreadable mattei*
joined the row on his bookshelves. On very rare occa-
sions, when perhaps he had been kept in by a chill and
had for the time being exhausted other literature, he
would turn to one of these diaries ; but he could never
manage more than a page or iwo. A powerful mixture

LESLIE B7

of boredom and shame made him almost instantly return
his autobiography to its place, there to remain, he could
only imagine, until such time as his executors should
sell the whole lot to the pulping works. And yet the
same irresistible force which made him carry on year
after year with this useless labour, also intervened to
prevent him anticipating such action on their part.
Could he possibly, he sometimes wondered, have a
secret hope that somebody else would one day find it
interesting to learn that on March the seventeenth,
nineteen hundred and nineteen, he had had a Turkish
bath ; or that on October the eighth, nineteen hundred
and eleven, he had ordered half a dozen shirts ? The
answer to this query remained for him, as it must remain
for us, a complete and insoluble mystery.

Let us watch him now, as he unscrews the cap of
his fountain-pen, and sits down to make the day's
entry.

" Morning at office,^^ he writes. " Caught 4.28 at
Charing Cross, and to Hare Hall for week-end. Went
over White House again.''^

Is it or is it not suspicious that there should be no
reference in this bald account, the whole of which has
now been quoted, to the Honourable Leslie Grahame ?
One cannot say. Whatever Bill is thinking now, we are
not going to get any help from his diary.

The party at dinner contained no additions to the
people whom Bill had already met, except an elderly
lady, whose name, as usual, he failed to catch, but who
conveyed the impression that she was some kind of
relation or relation-in-law to Lord Longwood. He was
surprised to hear her telling him that she remembered
him when he was only so high — a height indicated with
a hand about thirty inches from the floor, — and only
after he had simulated a reciprocal recollection, did he
discover that she had thought he was Maurice.

He found himself placed between Leslie and her
friend Wog, with the private secretary on Leslie's other

gg BILL THE BACHELOR

side ; and his first enquiry, naturally, was as to the fate
of Wog's luggage.

" Yes, there it was all the time," said Miss]' Lorden,
*' and now I'm back in my own clothes, worse luck. I
was longing to wear that frock of Leslie's. What do
you think of it ? "

Bill turned to look at it again. His frank opinion
was that it had probably cost the dickens of a lot of
money, but that such money had been well-spent, if it
was the frock that made Leslie look like that. However,
he couldn't exactly say this. So he said :

" It looks all right."

" All right ? " echoed Wog. " My dear good man, do
you realise that that dress is a Roxane ? "

" A what ? " asked Bill. ,

" Do you mean to tell me that you've never heard of
Roxane ? "

Why should he say that he had, if he hadn't ?

" Never," he answered.

Wog stood it well ; but worse was to follow. Within
the next five minutes he had also revealed his ignorance
of the fame and existences of both Blackman (apparently
the very appropriate name of a noted negro chef
(Torchestre) and Wrigley (a less suitably entitled lawn-
tennis champion). But not for a moment was the
courageous Wog cast down. Having, as she thought,
discovered the category in which Bill should be placed,
she was indefatigable in her attempts to shock him, with
the result that he began to find her extremely amusing ;
and he even had hopes that his appreciation of her well-
meant efforts might mitigate the criticism which he was
sensible that he deserved for being, probably, at least
seven years older than she was.

On his other side he heard Leslie's laugh more than
once, each time, he imagined, at some joke of Harvey's,
and each time it was necessary to overcome a sudden
impulse to leave Wog in the lurch and force his way into
this other conversation. But of course with six people
at a small, round table, most of the talk was general ;
and here the female relative had it all her own way,

LESLIE 89

being at all times ready with an entirely irrelevant
anecdote to illustrate any subject that might arise.
These stories were always received with obvious im-
patience by Wog, with less obvious impatience by Leslie
and Bill, and by Harvey with such an exaggerated air
of interest that it seemed every minute that the female
relative must rise up and strike him. Apparently, how-
ever, she took it all at its face value, and was correspond-
ingly pleased.

As for Lord Longwood, his mind was obviously
occupied elsewhere. He faced the company with the
blank scowl and the gently-moving lips which are
generally associated with the man who is next on the
toast-list at a public dinner. On the few occasions
when he took any part in the conversation, he would as
often as not go back to some subject which the others
had left some minutes before, showing clearly that he
had heard nothing of what had been said since. Alto-
gether he struck Bill as noticeably changed, not only
from the Mr. Grahame whom he had known in the old
days, but even from the man whom he had met at lunch
three weeks ago. But in so far as he thought about it,
he put it down to fatigue at the end of what had very
likely been a tiring week.

In due course the women rose and took their departure,
and Bill prepared himself for one or other of the stock
conversations which customarily accompany port and
cigars. No man, of course, knows what it is that women
talk about during this period of the evening, though
there is a theory current that babies and servants enter
largely into the subject-matter ; but all possible varia-
tions of masculine post-prandialism must long ago have
been tabulated. In the absence of barristers, who in-
variably talk shop, and of the dreadful fellow who asks
one if one has heard this, that or the other unrepeatable
story, one's money may safely be put on politics, wine,
racing, motors, golf or cigars, with perhaps a covering
bet on houses. I am not, of course, thinking for the
moment of shooting parties, which always stick stolidly
to the one subject of the day's sport. At none of these

90 BILL THE BACHELOR

discussions did Bill consider that he really shone. His
politics he derived entirely from his morning newspaper
— if the wrong one were delivered, he changed accord-
ingly— and though he might reasonably suspect others
of doing the same, they, he felt, managed somehow to
quote the day's leading article with an air which must
always elude him. The other matters, too, required a
kind of impassive boastfulness for their correct treat-
ment which he found equally beyond him. He could
never tell people about the parcel of Waterloo brandy
which he had picked up in a pawnshop, about the double
that he had backed at Newmarket, about the merits
of his new carburettor or his old mid-iron, not because
he objected to lying, but for the simpler reason that he
knew that nobody would believe him. In a world of
talkers, there must, however, always be listeners, and
some gratitude, surely, is owed to those silent members
of the community, who sit twisting their legs round
dining-room chairs, and occasionally passing the port
from left..to right. After all, somebody has got to be
the audience.

And so Bill settled himself to listen, and to look
interested, and to emerge on rare occasions from the
background with a hushed murmur of appreciation or
agreement, according to his usual practice at any dinner
which he was invited to attend. But for once there was
a change from the conventional dialogue to which he
had listened so many countless times before. For
almost from the moment that the men were left to them-
selves, the new private secretary took the floor, and
entertained his two listeners not with stories of golf
or motoring or any of the other traditional subjects,
but with a medley of autobiographical reminiscence
dealing with his own career during and since the war.

And a fascinating story he made of it. One might
be attracted or one might be repelled by the individual
who thus revealed himself, and Bill, at any rate, ex-
perienced a curious mixture of both these sensations,
but there could be no questioning the forcefulness of
the personality on the other side of the dining-room

LESLIE dl

table. Yet the odd thing was, that as far as it was
possible to make up any general picture from the dis-
jointed anecdotes of happenings in different parts of
the world, the record was quite frankly one of failure.
Again and again the new secretary would end a story

by saying, with a laugh, " and after that, I was

lucky to get away from the place in my clothes," or,
" when I cleaned up my accounts, I found I could just
clear the car-fare back to New York." One may imagine
that all the time Bill was keeping his ears open for any
mention of his old friend Colonel Baxter, but of this
period in Harvey's life, not a word was uttered. Yes,
he was puzzled ; not only by the enigma of the man
himself, his position in this household, and his own share
in securing it for him, but more than all this by the
motive which was now making him go out of his way
to reveal himself to Lord Longwood as, at the best, an
unprincipled opportunist, and, at anything less than
the best, a not particularly successful adventurer.
Though here again, if it were the business of an adven-
turer simply to meet with adventures, without reference
to their upshot, ought one after all to deny him his success?

More than once Bill glanced at his host's face to see
if he could discover what impression these revelations
were making on him, but all he could detect, or thought
he could detect, was the same look of thoughtful pre-
occupation which he had shown all through dinner.
For the hundredth time he wondered to what this asso-
ciation of his old and his new acquaintances was going
to lead, and how far he was going to be held responsible
for the results.

It was Harvey himself who seemed finally to give the
signal for the men to leave the dining-room, and it was
pretty late before the move was made. As they came
out into the hall. Bill heard him putting a question to
his employer.

"What about that memorandum, sir ? " he asked.

Lord Longwood appeared to give a regretful look
towards the dra^^^ng-room door, but the next moment
he had turned to BiU.

92 BILL THE BACHELOR

" I hope you'll excuse me," he said, " but, as a matter
of fact, I've got some rather important work to get
through, and I'd like to try and finish it off to-night."

" Oh, of course," said Bill, and the two others im-
mediately went off in the direction of the study, leaving
him to enter the drawing-room by himself.

Here he found the female relative engaged in knitting,
and Leslie and Miss Lorden occupied in some mysterious
game at a card table.

" Hullo. Where's Papa ? " Leslie called out.

" He's gone off to do some work," said Bill.

Leslie looked as though she were going to speak again,
but Wog's rich contralto broke in.

" Work ? " she said, with a sound of infinite contempt.
" Good Lord ! "

" Come and join us," Leslie invited, abandoning what-
ever it was that she had been going to say.

" What's the game ? " asked Bill.

They both began to explain at the same time how the
game, which apparently had no name, should be played.
Roughly speaking, it would seem to be a kind of cross
between Demon Patience and Vingt-et-un, with (at any
rate on Wog Lorden's part) more than a dash of Rugby
football. Six packs of cards were used, portions of
which were constantly being discovered on the floor ;
and, possibly owing to Bill's chivalrous restraint in that
part of the game which depended on physical strength,
though largely owing to a strange fluidity in the rules,
which must, one would imagine, prevent it ever becom-
ing widely popular in London clubs, he found, when at
length operations were suspended, that he owed Miss
Lorden seven shillings and Leslie one and sixpence.

" You have had rotten luck," said Wog admiringly,
as she took her winnings.

A vote on the subject of bed was put and carried,
and they all drifted out into the hall. But here, after
good-nights had been exchanged all round, the female
relative suddenly became possessed with a passionate
desire to tell Bill a story about something that she had
once said to his mother. Unfortunately for the progress

LESLIE 93

of this anecdote, however, she found herself unable to
recall the name of the people at whose house the incident
had taken place ; and although she was only too ready
to admit that this name had no kind of connection with
the point of the reminiscence, yet nothing would per-
suade her to go ahead without it.

At this point Wog dashed to the rescue, by suggesting
a number of surnames, each and all of which Dickens
himself must have rejected as impossible, but each and
all of which the female relative persisted in examining
on their own merits. At about the fifth name. Bill
suddenly caught Leslie's eye, and became simultaneously
aware that his choice lay between going up to bed that
instant, and offering a public apology to the female
relative at breakfast.

" Good-night," he managed to gulp out once again,
and then he fled.

And yet hardly had he turned the corner of the stairs,
before all desire to laugh had completely gone. Isn't
it odd how largely the funniness of things depends on
one's sharing it with other people ? He wanted to go

back and catch Leslie's eye again. He wan ted No,

it wasn't exactly that. What could it be, then ? For
a minute, a minute and a half, two minutes, he stood
still in the dim light of the corridor, his melancholy
and thoughtful expression growing more melancholy
and thoughtful every second.

" I — I must stop this," he muttered finally.

He took a step forward.

" It'll be hell, if I don't," he added.

Another step.

" Hell," he repeated.

And with this last, inexplicable utterance, he dis-
appears into his bedroom.

Ill

A FEW TELEGRAMS

Every Sunday morning at twenty minutes to eight, Mr.
Simeon Bradbeer, who during the six preceding days
has been carrying on a small retail business in tobacco,
picture-postcards, peppermint bulls-eyes, pen nibs and
rubber heels, arrives at the church at Little Hatchings,
and proceeds to ring its solitary bell somewhere between
eight and nine hundred times, his last tug at the frayed
bell-rope always synchronising with the first stroke of
the church clock. It may also be added that he repeats
this operation at twenty minutes to eleven and at ten
minutes past six, while on alternate Sundays he throws
in an extra five minutes before the Children's Service,
thus providing a weekly test of his own muscles and of
everybody else's nerves. For apart from association,
there is nothing ecclesiastical about the sound of that
bell. Indeed, if it had not sought sanctuary in a con-
secrated building, it is hard to believe that public
opinion would have tolerated for an instant the din
which it produces.

But being where it is, public opinion has decided to
be proud of the bell, and has even bestowed on it the
affectionate nickname of Cracked 'Arry, in double com-
pliment to the thing itself and to the weak-minded Sir
Henry Hare who originally presented it to the church
(as well as building Hare Hall in 1774, and subsequently
breaking his neck, under the mistaken impression that
he had developed the gift of flight, in 1798).

Yes, Little Hatchings will stand no nonsense from
open cut-outs, as motorists have discovered to their
cost ; and Little Hatchings still sings of the day when
it secured an injunction against the Sticklebridge Wagon

H

A FEW TELEGRAMS 95

Works for employing a steam saw, variously described
by witnesses as resembling the cry of a lost soul, the
yelp of a hyaena, the screech of a high-explosive shell,
and (by the Vicar) a cacophonous stridulation. But
the bell is sacrosanct. If you don't like it, you can go
and live somewhere else. If you remain, you do so at
your own risk. But people do remain, and whatever
their original opinion of the bell may have been, the
day inevitably arrives when they too begin to boast
about it ; in which they resemble (as one might expect)
human beings in general, and their own countrymen in
particular.

It was the sound of Cracked 'Arry's first performance,
stealing across half a mile of meadows, which recalled
Bill Fraser to a consciousness of this earthly existence,
and automatically he began, as he had always done in
his youth, to count the irregular pulsations which Mr.
Bradbeer was sending forth into space.

" Three hundred and three, three hundred and four,"
he murmured, " three hundred and five, three hundred
and six, three hundred and sev " He broke off.

It suddenly struck him that something had happened
to him last night. Something important. What could
it have been ? (Three hundred and ten, three hundred
and eleven.) Oh, yes, of course. He'd had an odd
feeling in the passage. (Three hundred and fourteen.)
A dashed odd feeling. (Three hundred and fifteen.)

And the question was — the great question was

(Three hundred and sixteen.) What was the great
question ? He opened one eye, scowled with it at the
ceiling, and suddenly realised that he had lost count of
the bell. Never mind ; begin again. " One — two —
three — four — Roxane." Who was Roxane? Dash it,

he'd lost count again. " L — E — S " No, no.

That wouldn't do. " One— two— three . . ."

At fifteen he fell asleep again.

And he was late for breakfast. Not that it mattered,
because everybody else was late too, except the private
secretary, who, it was announced, had gone up to London
to fetch some papers which Lord Longwood had for-

96 BILL THE BACHELOR

gotten to bring down with him last night. People
drifted in at intervals, and helped themselves, and
walked about a great deal. Wog killed a wasp, and
was suddenly taken feminine when faced with the dis-
posal of the body, so that Bill had to carry it out into
the garden for her. The morning was so perfect outside,
that he nearly forgot to come back again. Lord Long-
wood read four newspapers at once all through breakfast.
The female relative thought aloud on the subject of
whether she should go to church, and if so, where. And
Leslie looked so lovely, that somebody, coming in
through the open window, gave a loud and uncontrollable
gasp, and had to cover it up by pretending to cough.

Might this, do you think, be a good point at which to
attempt a description of Leslie's looks ? Possibly ; but
we are not going to try. Taste in noses alone varies as
much as does taste in puddings or in anything else, and
if we say that Leslie's nose was perfect, that is as near
describing either it or her as we should risk going. To
say more would lead to instant entanglement with the
prejudices and preferences of those people who have
never seen her, and it would be too terrible if, after that,
anybody thought they didn't like her. So although we
know exactly and precisely what she was like, neither
oxen nor wain-ropes (that is, supposing they took any
interest in the matter) shall induce us to say more than
this : — Of all the triumphs which old Andrew Grahame
had in his time achieved, nothing could ever equal the
supreme success of having a grand-daughter like Leslie.

After this, everybody is at complete liberty to shut
their eyes and try if they can see her.

Breakfast on Sunday marks a great turning point in
the history of a week-end visit. Time, which up to now
has proceeded at its customary pace, or perhaps a little
slower, should this be your first visit, now reaches the
parting of the ways. If the week-end be a good one,
it at this point breaks into a gallop and never pauses

A FEW TELEGRAMS 9T

until you are in the train again on Monday morning.
But if not, it stands still and jibs, and the remaining
twenty-four hours drag out their weary length with a
disastrous and unpleasing illusion of eternity. By the
time that your release arrives, you have all the sensations
of one who has been marooned in uncongeni|il company
on a small desert island, and whose notched stick marks
as many years as there have in reality been hours. Let
us quickly turn our thoughts away from this second kind
of week-end.

For Bill Eraser, at any rate, time flew. So fast,
indeed, that looking back on his visit afterwards, he
found it almost impossible to sort out the various
incidents of the day. Lunch seemed to have become
confused with breakfast, and lawn-tennis superimposed
on church. At one period there had been an influx
of visitors, and the hard courts had seen some
equally hard usage. That would have been in the
afternoon. Yes, but was it at lunch or tea that, with
his mind anywhere else, he had made himself so un-
naturally agreeable to an aged visitor, that Wog Lorden
had found it necessary to give an imitation of him at
dinner ? Impossible to say. The day had gone so
fast, the mixture of past and present had been so be-
wildering, the general result in his mind so kaleidoscopic.

Dinner did to a certain extent detach its^^from the
rest of the day. With the departure of the visitors, in
a series of motors, it had become possible momentarily
to collect one's thoughts, and he had a distinct visjon of
the small round table in the big, panelled dining-room,
with the original party of six assembled again round it.
Harvey must, therefore, have returned some time during
the afternoon. Yes, for had he not again taken com-
plete charge of the conversation from the moment that
the men were left to themselves ?

But this time, instead of entertaining the party with
stories of his past, he favoured them with his views on
economic subjects, and more particularly in connection
with the general industrial reorganisation which he
declared to be necessary to the salvation of British trade.

G

98 BILL THE BACHELOR

If Bill's mind had not been in such a confused and ex-
hausted state, he might have leavnt much from this
disquisition. But however inattentive he might be,
he did certainly remember thinking it odd that Lord
Longwood, whose first-hand knowledge of much that
was under discussion must have been very considerable,
should allow himself to be lectured in this way by his
own private secretary. Nevertheless, this was exactly
what he did allow. Leaning back in his chair, with his
fingers occasionally twisting the stem of his wine-glass,
he blinked thoughtfully at the flood of theory which was
being poured out from the other side of the table. Now
and then he nodded his head in silent agreement, but
for the most part he M-'as content to gaze at his secretary
in absorbed fascination, smiling a little, perhaps, from
time to time, as Harvey remembered to throw in, " but of
course you know much more about this than I do, sir,"
or some other little sop of tribute to his employer's
importance.

A curious picture they must have made, sitting there
round the candle-lit table. Lord Longwood with his
look of half-cautious bemusement, Bill frowning silently
at the glitter of the polished mahogany, and Austin
Harvey, with his theatrical good-looks and his just-too-
pleasant voice, working his preliminary magic with all
the grace and assurance which were, when he chose, so
pre-eminently his.

At length, after one last, uninterrupted circuit of the
port, they rose to leave the room. It is at this moment,
of course, at most week-end parties, that one would wish
to bid a fond and final farewell to one's host and hostess,
and go to bed, slipping unnoticed from their doors on
the following morning. The climax of the visit, if there
has ever been one, is by now certainly over, and for
every minute after this that one stays awake, payment
must be made with temper and fatigue at one's work on
Monday. But on this occasion temper and fatigue, so
far as Bill was concerned, could go and hang themselves.
He felt an imperative need to go on looking at Leslie
Grahame, and to achieve this purpose he would, if

A FEW TELEGRAMS 99

necessary, sit up all night. But, alas ! what good
would that have done ? As the men re-entered the
drawing-room, you might almost have seen the buoyancy
escaping from him, as he saw that she wasn't there.

Lord Longwood came unconsciously to his assistance.

" What's happened to Leslie ? " he asked.

" She had a headache. She's gone to bed," answered
the female relative.

" Oh, bad luck," said Austin Harvey, and Bill echoed
these words to himself. For had he not to catch the
early train to Cannon Street in the morning ? And
young women who go to bed with headaches are, if they
can afford to do so, as good as certain to stay there for
breakfast. The fact is common knowledge. Yet he
had so counted on having one more good look at her.

Besides, if he had said good-bye to her in person, it
would have been hard indeed if she had not said some-
thing about seeing him again. Whereas now

" Cheer up ! " said Miss Lorden's voice suddenly in
his ear. " Don't look so Sunday-nightish, or I shall
cry."

" I'm sorry," said Bill, making a great effort.

"That's better. That's much better. Now we'll
come and play the spelling game."

For Wog, it would seem, any evening which was not
spent in some form of intellectual competition was
wasted. But the spelling game was a failure in spite
of all her efforts, for Harvey was so much too good.
By dint of insisting with the utmost violence on the
existence of a number of hitherto unknown words, she
did, as a matter of fact, manage to come in as a doubtful
second ; but the rest were absolutely nowhere, and the
female relative, who hated being beaten with a passionate
hatred, broke up the party by saying that she was going
to bed.

" All right," said Wog, " then I shall go too. And if
ever I play with you again," she added, turning to the
victorious Harvey, " I shall make a rule that you never
have any E's."

Harvey laughed.

ItM) BILL THE BACHELOR

" Then I shall make you play with a dictionary," he
said. " Good-night."

A few minutes later Bill had passed through the
historic corridor, and was again in his bedroom.

His suit-case already lay on the hearth-rug, its
preliminary layers of clothes reminding him of his
approaching departure. This, then, was the end of his
first visit as a grown-up guest to Hare Hall. He sat
down on the sofa at the foot of the bed, and wondered
how, when, where and whether he would see Leslie
again.

" But I suppose I can't sit here all night," he remarked
presently, and he began his preparations for bed.

" I wonder if twenty-nine strikes a person as old," he
muttered a little later.

And then : " I wonder if they've packed my tennis
shoes. I believe I left them in the bathroom."

And last of all, after he had put out the light, this
savage and mysterious anathema comes from the dark-
ness :

" Oh, damn money ! "

There had been a rattle of curtain rings, and now some-
body was speaking to him.

" Eh ? What's that ? " he asked, emerging from his
pillow.

" I was to tell you, sir," said the footman, " that if
you aren't in a particular hurry, the car was going up to
London about ten o'clock, and would you wish to go
in it ? "

Bill rubbed his eyes, sorted out the footman's oratio
recta from his oratio ohliqua, and said he would be
delighted. Neither partner in Fraser and Company
ever expected the other one to be unreasonably early
after a Saturday to Monday in the country. By the
sacrifice of the return half of a third-class ticket, he
would avoid the crowded train and gain a welcome
addition to his supply of fresh air. And perhaps more
than this also.

A FEW TELEGRAMS 101

But there was no sign of Leslie at breakfast, where he
found himself alone with a rather taciturn Wog, who
barricaded herself behind a newspaper quite as if they
had been married to each other for years. When Bill
asked how his hostess was this morning, she came out
for a moment, gave him an odd look, and snapped :
" Right as rain." After which she immediately with-
drew within the fortifications, signifying plainly that
the parley was at an end.

Towards ten o'clock he wandered into the hall, where
he found the butler and his suit-case waiting for him.
This seemed a good opportunity for offering his humble
tip, which was very graciously accepted and conjured
away.

" Does his lordship generally drive up to London ? "
Bill asked, more for the purpose of showing that he
wasn't afraid, than with the wish to satisfy any real
curiosity.

" His lordship isn't going up till to-morrow, sir,"
said the butler.

Here the brief conversation flickered out, and Bill
was left wondering if his companion w^ere to be the
private secretary, or only somebody's luggage.

There was an opulent sound from without of pneu-
matic tyres crunching on gravel, and an open touring-
car slid into position before the front door. At the
wheel was a uniformed chauffeur, and alone at the back
was the black spaniel, sitting up on the seat and sniffing
the morning air. Bill hesitated for a moment, wonder-
ing perhaps whether he were meant to travel with the
chauffeur or the dog, and then, as he moved forward,
a voice addressed him from behind.

" Good-morning ! " Leslie called out. " Papa says
will you please excuse him, but he's terribly busy on
something or other that's come by the post. I say, will
it frighten you if I drive ? "

Bill's heart seemed suddenly to change its location.

" No, of course not," he said. " How's your head-
ache ? "

" Gone."

102 BILL THE BACHELOR

He could believe her, for she looked radiant.

And so the chauffeur transferred himself to the tonneau,
and Leslie and Bill took their places on the front seat.

" Is everything on board ? " she asked.

*' Yes, miss," said the butler and the chauffeur in
unison.

She pressed the foot-accelerator for an instant and
let the engine race, and then, satisfied apparently with
the sound, she let in the clutch and they were off. Once
again Bill found himself speeding through the familiar
lanes, but all too soon they had turned the dangerous
corner on to the main road, and the car settled down to
its morning's work. Looking round he could see Alfonso,
the spaniel, leaning his chin on the edge of the door,
half-closing his eyes in the gratification of one of the
supreme pleasures in life ; and Bradley, the chauffeur,
whose look of stolid detachment seemed at the same
time to contradict and explain the Mons medal-ribbon
which decorated his jacket. And then he turned again
to look at the other occupant of the front seat.

" What's the matter ? " asked Leslie, without taking
her eyes from the road. " Is there something on my
face ? "

" Oh, no. Not in the least," said Bill, jerking his
head away.

" You're quite sure ? "

Of course he had to look again.

" Quite," he said. Was she smiling, or was it only
his imagination ?

" Tell me," said Leslie presentlv ; " what do you make
ofWog?"

" I like her." This seemed a fair statement of the
truth, but Leslie was not satisfied.

" No, but what do you really think ? " she asked
again.

" I do really like her. Honestly I do."

" She doesn't get on your nerves ? "

" No, of course not. I like her enormously." He
almost overdid it this time.

" She likes you, too," said Leslie.

A FEW TELEGRAMS 11W

Bill could not resist a feeling of pleasure. This is
a comforting thing to be told, no matter where the
remark originated.

" Does she ? " he asked.

But Leslie was not, it seemed, going to let him have
it twice.

" There's a great deal more in Wog than most people
think," she went on.

" I'm sure there is," said Bill, though he wondered,
as soon as he had said it, whether the answer might not
have been better put.

" And she doesn't take to people very easily," Leslie
added.

" Oh," said Bill.

Let Wog be granted her merits, by all means. He
had no doubt at all that beneath her affectation of super-
modernity there could be discovered, by anyone with
the patience to look for it, some kind of very genuine
person. But at the same time he had a sort of feeling
that things were drifting in the wrong direction, if they
were going to spend the whole of the drive in praising
absent young women. Leslie, howeX'er stuck to her
subject.

" She's had an awful lot of trouble," she said. " She
was brought up to expect that she'd always have lots
of money, and then it all went, and she found she'd
hardly got any."

*' How rotten," Bill murmured, perhaps with more
sympathy than he could force into his voice.

" And she was engaged to a man, too, who was killed
in a flying accident about two years ago. She was so
terribly brave about it that a lot of people said she
couldn't have cared. Brutes ! "

The speedometer leapt forward in sympathy with the
violence of this exclamation, and Bill clutched the side
of the car.

" I'm sorry," said Leslie, with a kind of laugh, and
again they drove on in silence for some time.

" Is your office still in the same place ? " she asked
presently.

104 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Yes," said Bill.

" How does the business get on ? "

Why not tell the truth ?

" Not very wonderfully well," he answered.

"Is it going to get better ? "

" I don't know. I hope so."

" But you must make it," said Leslie, with tremendous
emphasis. " Any business will go well, if you make it.
You've got to try harder. You've got to risk things."
For a moment it was old Andrew Grahame's voice that
spoke.

" It's all very well to talk about taking risks," pro-
tested^Bill; " but it isn't all my own money, you know.
I've got a partner to consider."

" Who ? Mr. Lucas ? "

" Yes. I'd forgotten you used to know him."

" I shouldn't have thought that he would have
minded taking risks," said Leslie.

It was on the very tip of Bill's tongue to retort that
old George would mind as much as anyone, when he
suddenly stopped. Would such a statement after all,
be true ? Was George, who had wrecked his whole
life for the sake of a momentary impulse, George, who
had earned the Order of St. George (Third Class) by the
extreme limit of unnecessary rashness, to be denied the
ability to take risks ? The thoughts suggested by these
questions seemed to expand rapidly in every direction.

Had he accepted too easily the old family tradition
that George's ideas must always be suspected, that his
expectations must always be discounted ? Had it been
caution, or the mental sloth and avoidance of responsi-
bility which the army had taught him, that had made
him resist and overcome the series of hazardous pro-
posals which his partner had from time to time put
forward ?

And yet, if George had really believed in these sugges-
tions, why had he always let himself be overpersuaded ?
Perhaps he could answer this. Ex-black-sheep may
easily have an exaggerated distrust of their own judg-
ment. There would be nothing so very unlikely in

A FEW TELEGRAMS 105

that. Or perhaps again George laboured under an undue
sense of responsibility towards the son of Robert Eraser.
Would not this, also, be George all over ?

" You've given me something to think about," said
Bill.

Leslie darted a quick, suspicious glance at him, looking
apparently to see if he were making fun of her.

" I'm quite serious," she said.

" So am I," answered Bill.

And, in proof of this, they both laughed.

" But one can't always " he was beginning again,

when Leslie interrupted him.

" Hush ! Tram-lines," she said.

" I beg your pardon."

" Never talk on tram lines," said Leslie. " Once ran
into a lamp-post through talking on tram-lines."
" In spite of her anxious voice, there was nothing in her
manipulation of the car to give any particular cause for
alarm, and Bill sank back again into a lengthy reverie,
in which George Lucas continued to occupy an important
role. From these thoughts he was suddenly roused by
the appearance, spanning the roadway in front of him,
of the hideous masonry of the Tower Bridge. Leslie
must have heard the little exclamation that he gave,
and (since there are, of course, no trams over this bridge)
she asked him :

" What's the matter ? "

" I say ! You've come miles out of the way. Why
didn't you tell me ? I could easily have got up to the
office from anywhere in London. Weren't you going
to Brook Street ? "

" I'm not in any hurry. Besides, it's good practice.
Don't you worry ; Bradley will see that I'm all right."

" No, but really — you ought to have told me — I "

Leslie drowned his remonstrances with a long blast on
the electric horn.

" There, there," she said, as the sound ceased. " That
will do. Now show me which way to turn."

In a very few minutes they had drawn up at the
entrance to Pardon Court. The chauffeur leapt out

106 BILL THE BACHELOR

and stood waiting, holding the suit-case in his hand;
Leslie switched oft the engine and sat forward, resting
her arms on the steering-wheel.

" Well, good-bye. Thanks most awfully," said Bill.

Leslie was gazing in apparent absorption at the cap of
the radiator.

" Do you ever dance ? " he thought he heard her
ask

"Did you say "dance?"

" Yes."

" You mean, do I go to dances ? "

" Yes."

" Weil, as a matter of fact, I Well, no, I don't

know how it is, but somehow or other ..."

" You mean you don't ? "

" Oh, I expect I'd soon pick it up again. I "

She turned her head towards him at last.

" It doesn't matter," she said, smiling. " I'd thought
perhaps you might have taken me to the Stewarts'
next week, but I'll let you off." She held out her
gloved hand. " Ring up and come and see me some
time at Brook Street. It was nice to meet you again.
Good-bye."

" Good-bye," said Bill. " I will — of course — I mean
—I wish— I . . ."

Somehow or other he was on the pavement. He heard
the high, whirring note of the self-starter, and the next
moment he was already looking at the contemptuous
back of the car as it moved away. He was o's^erwhelmed
by a sense of having, in some way, failed to make use of
a rare and unhoped-for opportunity. He ought to have
asked more questions. He ought to have been more
amusing. Above all, he ought to have said, immediately
the subject was mentioned, that dancing was his one
aim and pleasure in life. Then she would have asked
him to take her to the what's-his-names', and he would
have spent the entire interval between now and then in
having dancing lessons. And then — yes, but what then ?
What good would that have done, except possibly
provide him with another opportunity to misuse ?

A FEW TELEGRAMS 107

This helpless feeling was so different from anything he
had ever known. Most infernally inconvenient too.

Surely other men but the thought of other men made

him shudder, and the next instant he was tottering
wildly in an effort to avoid falling over his suit-case.

" Oh, come along into the office," he said roughly.
" You're doing no good to anyone by holding up the
traffic out here."

3

One cannot say with quite what impracticable ideas
for the reform of Messrs. Eraser and Company Bill
may not have passed through the door of his office on
this Monday morning, but whatever they may have
been, George Lucas's greeting quickly drove them out
of his head. He was sitting in Bill's room and at Bill's
desk, roaring down the telephone, but as soon as he
saw him come in, he slammed down the receiver, and
broke out :

" Where the dickens have you been ? "

" Where' ve I been ? " repeated Bill, astonished at tlie
violence of this enquiry. " In the country, of course.
They drove me up. Wh5% what on earth's the matter ? "

" Oh, yes," said George. " Sorry. I'd quite for-
gotten." He paused for a second, and Bill went through
a moment's panic that he was going to ask him whether
he were yet engaged to the daughter of the house ; but
instead of this, he flung a telegram on to the table.

" This came in on Saturday afternoon," he said.
" Now what the devil are we going to do about it ? "

Bill picked up the flimsy piece of paper, and read
something which looked rather like this : —

" gropelino lemaitre agrapunta modalisco comportos
segrebart tragumist nagloramo — Barrett."

" Well ? " asked George, watching his face.
" My dear old fellow," said Bill, " I don't know the
code-books by heart. What's it all about ? "

*' I've decoded it on the back," answered George

108 BILL THE BACHELOR

shortly ; and he began drumming with his fingers on
the edge of the desk. Bill turned the paper over, and,
among an interlacing pattern of unsuccessful attempts,
read:

" I have information that Lemaitre is planning to
dispose of agency. Firm offer of 1,000,000 francs
would probably secure. Immediate action necessary
and personal negotiations advisable. Barrett."

" Well ? " repeated George.

" Is this from our Barrett ? " asked Bill.

" I don't know of any other."

" Well," said Bill, putting the telegram back on the
desk, " it's very good of him to tell us, I'm sure. But
we haven't got a million francs, so that ends it."

George Lucas suddenly stopped his tattoo.

" We might raise it," he said.

" And then again we might not," added Bill.

" Of course," continued George, disregarding this
last remark, " it would be a bit of a risk."

Grudgingly as he made this admission, he couldn't
have chosen a word which would at the moment have
attracted his partner more. A risk, was it ? Bill
suddenly seated himself on the corner of the desk.

" If this fellow knows what he's talking about," he
said, laying his hand on the telegram, " and we want to
go any further, it seems to me that one of us ought to
go to Paris to-night."

George half-rose from his chair.

" You mean that ? " he asked, his eyes flashing.
And his excitement swung Bill round again towards
caution.

'* I mean that, on the face of it, it might be worth
looking into," he answered. " That's all."

George sank back again into his seat.

" A million francs may be a lot of money for us to
find," he said, " but if one could get Lemaitre's business
for that, it would be cheap."

" It might be," Bill admitted. " Without going into
it all, one couldn't possibly say."

A FEW TELEGRAMS 100

" Anything would be cheap that gave us a chance
again. A chance of getting out of this infernal rut."

" But, look here," said Bill. " Even supposing we
had the money, I don't see how we could nin a business
in Paris, unless we pretty well chucked things up over
here."

" Oh, I'd find some one to run it for us all right,"
George brushed this objection aside. " Of course you
and I would have to spend a good bit of our time there
off and on. But there are worse places than Paris.
Eh?"

Bill got off the desk, and began pacing the room.

" How would you propose to raise the money ? " he
asked presently.

" The usual way," said George. " Sell and borrow."

" It's all very well " Bill began, and broke off

to resume his perambulation. When George said " Sell
and borrow " with that air of light-hearted enthusiasm,
it was enough to alarm anybody, but — but what was
the alternative? If Providence had caused this tele-
gram to appear while Leslie's words were still ringing in
his ears and the thoughts which they had aroused were
still circulating in his skull, didn't it look as if Providence
had some idea at the back of it all ? Unless he intended
that Eraser and Company should remain for the rest of
his life the kind of charitable institution into which it
had gradually turned — supporting its inmates, but
holding out no hope to them of any improvement in
their lot — something drastic had sooner or later to be
done. Well, why not now ?

" This is how I look at it," George was saying. " What
would we think, if we heard that some one else had had
this chance, and turned it down ? "

Bill was conscious of a weakness somewhere in this
argument. Other people's bankruptcy, for instance,
was a very different thing from one's own. Neverthe-
less, it had its effect.

" Look here," he said finally. " Give me twenty
minutes to think this over. Will you ? "

" Why, of course," said George. " You know I don't

110 BILL THE BACHELOR

want to hustle you into anything. Only, if we decide
to go on with it, we ought to do something pretty quick."

" That's all right. Twenty minutes is all I want.
By the way, was there anything else in the mail this
morning ? "

" Does the Post Office ever let us have anything on
Monday morning ? " asked George, bitterly.

" I'm sorry. I'd forgotten."

George looked puzzled at this unwonted exhibition
of absent-mindedness, but he said no more, and, ex-
tricating himself from the revolving chair, he made his
way out of the room.

" Now, then," said Bill to himself, and, taking the
vacated seat, he dug his knuckles into his forehead and
prepared to think.

In the first place, if one were going to do anything
about it at all, one must assume that Barrett had known
what he was up to when he sent that telegram. And
the chances were that he had. Bill gave a reminiscent
smile. Yes, one could probably place considerable
reliance on Sidney MacGregor Barrett, former clerk
and sometime office-boy to Messrs. Eraser and Company.

A cockney of cockneys, in spite of his romantic
middle name, this youth had already been a fixture in
Pardon Court when Bill had made his first appearance
there. His most striking characteristic in those days,
apart from the conscientiousness with which he attacked
his uninteresting duties, had been an encyclopeedic
knowledge of all records and statistics connected with
sport. From the genealogy of the winner of the three-
thirty to the averages of the Surrey team ; from the
reputed transfer fee which had caused a Wolf to become
a Spur, to the wrist measurement of Battling Cohen,
there was no subject on which Barrett could not provide
immediate and accurate information. Such omniscience
is, of course, a gift which no more argues the possession
of an intellect than does, for example, proficiency at
bridge. But the remarkable thing about Barrett had
been that he had never let the acquisition of this know-
ledge interfere in the slightest degree with his work, nor,

A FEW TELEGRAMS li:|

so far as Bill and George were aware, had he ever used
the office telephone for communicating with his book-
maker. In short, he had borne the just reputation of
being a good lad.

Then comes the inevitable interruption. Barrett dis-
appears into a cloud of khaki, and for the time being no
more is heard of him. Erasers' had guaranteed that
his place should be kept for him, and were even con-
tributing, according to their ability, towards his upkeep ;
but he did not — nor was it expected of him — tell them
how he was occupying his time. It was realised that
he had other things to see to. Yet in his way he was
doing a rather unusual thing ; for his memorising
powers, deprived of their ordinary raw material by the
exigencies of the national crisis, had turned to the
acquisition of the French tongue. Not for Sidney
Barrett was it sufficient to communicate with his allies
by the two words " Napoo " and " Estaminet." By
the time that the army had finished with him, his know-
ledge of French was nearly as good as his knowledge of
English, and his accent was a great deal better.

But what use was this accomplishment to a clerk in
Eraser and Company ? The two partners laid their
heads together, and the result was that they obtained
for him a three months' trial in the London office of the
Agence Lemaitre, a French house which acted as selling
agent for some of the principal British manufacturers
in their own line of business. Here it was hoped that
his qualifications would find greater scope, though it
was clearly understood that if this hope should be dis-
appointed. Erasers' would still make room for him.
But in two months he had been transferred by the Agence
Lemaitre to their head establishment in Paris, and there
he had remained ever since. On his occasional visits
to this country he had generally called at Pardon Court,
and had never been backward in attributing, with truly
Gallic courtesy, his rapid rise in his new employment to
the start which Messrs. Lucas and Eraser had been able
to give him.

And now, it would seem, his sense of obligation had

112 BILL THE BACHELOR

actually inspired him to give them advance information
of what he well knew must be extremely interesting to
them. If it were true that old Lemaitre was thinking
of disposing of his business, if it were possible for Frasers'
to buy it, and to retain the goodwill and the connections
which he had built up, here at last would be an opening
in the impenetrable circle of closed markets which had
hitherto surrounded them. To Bill, sitting scowling
at his desk, these certainly appeared to be pretty big
Ifs, but surely the preliminary step towards overcoming
them was obvious. Either George or himself, or both
of them, must go to Paris at once, see Barrett and look
over the ground with him. To do more might be
impossible, but would they ever deserve any improve-
ment in their affairs, if they did less ? Clearly not.
And yet, even as he realised that he had come to this
decision, he found himself wondering if he would have
looked at things in the same way, if that telegram had
arrived in time to be opened on Saturday.

Anyhow, his immediate determination had been
reached, and it was in considerably less than twenty
minutes that he made his way through into his partner's
room. George was poring over his blobting-pad, on
which he had been making a quantity of untidy -looking
calculations, interspersed with classical profiles.

" Hullo," he said, looking up. " What is it ? "

In his new mood, it opened Bill's eyes to see that
he was apparently considered incapable of making
up his mind in less than the time for which he^had
asked.

" If you agree," he said, " I think the next move is a
visit to Paris."

A broad grin broke over George's face.

" Good man ! " he said. " Do you mean it ? '*

Bill nodded.

" Yes," he answered.

He felt a wave of sudden affection for poor^old George.
He looked so pleased, and he had so obviously been
preparing himself to take it well and to say that he
agreed, if the alternative view had been put to him.

A FEW TEI.EGRAMvS 118

For some reason Bill again found himself jerking his
thoughts back from his morning drive.

He sat down in the visitor's armchair, and the two of
them fell to discussing the possibilities of the affair as
thoroughly as their ignorance of so much that was
important allowed. Taking it for granted that Barrett's
information was correct, what was the utmost that they
could afford to pay, and how and where were they to
try and raise the money? As they settled down to
details, the list of questions which must be gone into
and the accumulation of figures on all available scraps
of paper grew and grew. At about half-past one they
sent out for some lunch, and presently the crumbs
from sandwiches and the rings from the bottom of wet
glasses were added to the rest of the mess which was
strewn on the table. They had arrived in the middle
of the most indescribably complicated argument con-
nected with the problematical trend of the French
exchange, when George suddenly interrupted himself
to exclaim :

" Good Lord ! I'd quite forgotten. We ought to
have telegraphed to Barrett. Where on earth are those
blanks ? "

A violent imitation of haymaking disclosed the yellow
sheaf of foreign telegraph forms, and then another
question arose.

" I say," asked George ; " which of us ought to go ? "

" Why not both ? "

" We can't possibly. Some one's got to be here to
see old Stromberg on Wednesday. You'd better go
alone."

" No, we'd much better send you. My French is
beyond words."

" You won't have to talk French to Barrett."

" All right. No — I'm sorry. My passport's run
out. It'll have to be you."

" Passport ? " George gasped. " That's done it.
What's the time ? Don't I need a visa ? "

" Not now," said Bill. " Don't you remember their
taking it off ? "

114 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Oh, yes. So they did."

" We might as well send out for your ticket, though,"
Bill suggested.

And so a telegram was drafted to Barrett cliez
Lemaitre, saying that Mr. George Lucas would be in
Paris on Tuesday morning, and would be glad if the
said Barrett would send a message to the Continental
saying when and where he would be available for a
meeting. With this telegram and a cheque, a clerk
was sent hurrying out before the banks closed, and
returned in due course with a supply of English and
French money, and one of Mr. TJhomas Cook's well-
known cardboard receptacles containing a retmn ticket
to Paris.

The boat train was timed to leave Victoria at eight
o'clock (as it is still commonly known on this side of
the channel) and, at Bill's suggestion, the partners
arranged to have an early dinner together at the station
restaurant. In the meantime George was to go off and
pack his bag, and make any other preparations, whicli
he considered necessary, while Bill stayed behind at the
office, to clear things up, and to go through a series of
severe attacks of nerves over the decision which had
been reached.

" I must make old George understand," he told himself
on each occasion, " that he's only going there to spy out
the land, and that he's not to settle anything without
letting me know. If I can only get that fixed in his
head, we can't go so very wrong at this stage."

But was this the spirit in which big business deals were
pulled off ? Was this the kind of policy to gain Leslie's
admiration ? He shook his head impatiently. They
weren't going in for this to please Leslie. Or — or were
they?

The rest of the afternoon went quickly enougli, and
at a quarter to seven Bill found his partner waiting for
him at the entrance to the Pillar Hall, as some poetic
catering-contractor has called the refreshment-room at
Victoria.

A FEW TELEGRAMS 115

" The man says there's a better place upstairs," said
George by way of greeting. " Shall we try it ? "

Bill nodded. This was clearly an occasion for the
better place, and they stepped into the lift.

" You order and I pay," said Bill, as they took
their seats. " Only don't forget you're crossing the
Channel."

" The generous host encourages his guest," George
commented. " Can you run to a pint of beer ? "

" I can run to a couple of cocktails to begin with, any-
how," said Bill, and he tried to attract the attention of
a boy who was pushing a kind of perambulator full of
bottles in and out among the tables.

" My dear old Bill," said George, " since when have
you taken to cocktails ? Is this what they taught you
at Hare Hall ? "

" I haven't taken to them. I'm trying to give you
a good send-off."

" So you are. But I think I'll stick to the beer,
thanks all the same." And the cocktail experiment
was abandoned.

No mother seeing off her only child to school can ever
have offered half the advice which Bill thrust on the
unfortunate George during the meal which ensued, but
George's good humour was proof against everything.

" I've always had a feeling that we should make
something of this show in the end," he said, " and I
believe this is going to be the beginning."

For the moment Bill felt this confidence carrying him
away.

" That's the way to go for things," he answered
cheerily, and off they went again into a labyrinth of
calculations.

Presently the clock at the end of the room warned
them that it was time to move, but the discussion was
continued right down to the barrier on the platform,
past which, in spite of George's most genial powers of
persuasion. Bill's progress was barred.

A sudden impulse made them shake hands, probably
for the first time in their lives.

116 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Well, jolly good luck," said Bill. " And you'll let
me know how things go ? "

" I'll telegraph as soon as there's any news to send."

" And don't worry about hurrying back, if you think
you'll do better to wait out there. I'll look after things
for you here all right."

" I'm sure yo«i will. But I'm bound to be back in
two or three days at the latest."

" Now, then, sir," interposed the guardian of the
barrier, " you'd better hurry up." With a last grin and
wave of his hand, George fled up the platform. Only
just in time, for the next instant the train had begun
to move. Bill watched it out of sight, and then turned
to leave the station.

Reaction after these seeing-off scenes is unavoidable,
but in Bill's case it seemed to be accentuated by the
fact that at eight o'clock he had already dined. Per-
haps the Corinthian would be the best solution for the
rest of the evening. Protected by a newspaper or a
monthly review in a corner of the library, he could
resume some of the hard thinking which his recent
business and emotional experiences still seemed to
demand. It would be pleasant, perhaps, to walk up
there across the Green Park.

The library was empty when he entered it, for the
members had not yet begun to trickle in from the
dining-room, and he had been alone with his thoughts
in the leather armchair for some time, before the sound
of the door opening made him hastily snatch up his
paper. Only just in time. It was the dreaded Baxter.
Bill buried himself in the newspaper ; but the next
moment his simulated absorption in the evening's
news had suddenly become intensely genuine. For his
eye had been caught by a photograph on one of the
inner pages, whose resemblance to the original had for
once survived the effects of the half-tone process.
Lord Longwood, unmistakably. Even as the thought
entered his mind, " Curious that I've never seen anything
about him in a newspaper before," his eyes had passed
to the adjacent paragraph, and were beginning to read.

A FEW TELEGRAMS 117

"Lord Longwood, the well-known magnate, whose

name is being freely mentioned in connection Avith

the formation of the new Taxation Committee, has

always been fond of a good story. Here is one that

he relates . . . ."

There followed a supreme example of the newspaper

comic anecdote, of which it were better to say no more

than that in due course it concluded, " . . . ' Sure, yer

honour,' said the jarvey, ' thin it's meself would be alone

wid yez ! ' "

Bill felt his brain straining to catch some elusive
thought suggested by this appalling story What could
it be ? He would have it in a minute, if only .... Ah !
He had incautiously lowered his protective screen for
a second, and in that instant the sight of a red neck
bending over the magazine rack, had given him what
he was seeking.

Yes, there could be no doubt of it. It had been
precisely this story, attached to precisely such another
newspaper paragraph, which had, as long ago as the
autumn of 1917, been the first sign to reach him in his
distant camp of the fame which M'as approaching, with
rapid and irresistible strides, the Great Baxter.

Once upon a time, in the days of the air-raids, a lady
left her aged mother in the country, to come up to London
for a couple of nights. And the aged mother having
expressed considerable alarm as to her child's safety
during this visit, the daughter undertook to telegraph
to her an immediate report of her own escape or other-
wise, should she have the ill-fortune to be caught by
one of these aerial attacks. Very well, then. As luck
would have it, the very first night of this lady's visit,
the whistles blew, the maroons banged, the populace
scuttled, the air became full of shrieks, buzzings, rattles,
booms, clatters and bumps, and then, after a decent
interval, there was a sound of bugles, and the lady
realised that she was still alive. Accordingly, at a
quarter past eight the next morning, she went round

118 BILL THE BACHELOR

to the nearest post-office and despatched the following
telegram : — " Zepps nowhere near me — Gwladys." (As
a matter of fact they weren't Zeppelins at all ; they were
Gothas ; but this doesn't affect the point of the story.)

To resume. The next night there was no raid, and
on the following day the lady returned to her country
house. What was her distress, on ringing the front
door bell and on the door being opened, to observe her
faithful old parlourmaid emit a wild shriek and fall
senseless to the ground ? And what was her further
distress to find the doctor's hat on the hall table and
the doctor himself administering brandy and oxygen
to her aged mother, who, in spite of these attentions,
was in a complete and alarming state of collapse ? And
what was her annoyance to see on the table by her
mother's bedside an open telegram, which read : —
" Zepps now here. Near me — Gwladys " !

Let us by all means have a happy ending. The aged
mother and the faithful parlourmaid both recovered,
and Gwladys married the doctor ; but the point wliich
this interesting story is intended to illustrate is — well,
I'm not quite sure what it is now, for the more I look at
it, the more morals do I see bristling from every line.
One might, indeed, preach a whole sermon on this story.

But one thing that it certainly illustrates is the folly
of false economy when applied to the drafting of tele-
grams. In this case a portion of the responsibility for the
inconvenience which arose must undoubtedly rest on
the Post Office. But another twopence, or threepence at
most, spent on the amplification of the message, must
have made the flaw in its transmission obvious even
to an aged mother.

Yet isn't it curious how widespread such parsimony
is ? The mere sight of a blank telegraph form seems
enough to afflict many otherwise quite intelligent
people with a blind passion for abbreviation, in the
pursuit of which they will cheerfully sacrifice any number
of words and all hope of being understood, providing
only that the resulting agglomeration of rubbish falls
within the minimum charge. The loss to the Inland

A FEW TELEGRAMS IIJ

Revenue I do not mention. The Inland Revenue can,
in my experience, look after itself.

With this much of introduction we get on to George
Lucas's first telegram, which reached Bill in Pardon
Court on Tuesday afternoon.

Here it is :

""Arrived safely appointinent this afternoon — George.^*

Now, of com'se, as Bill was the first to admit, it was
no doubt very jolly to know that George hadn't fallen
overboard in the Channel, or been carried away in the
Rome express, or been run over in the Place de 1' Opera ;
but without laying himself open to an accusation of
heartlessness, he could not help feeling that the first
part of the message might reasonably have been assumed
from the fact that it was shown as having been handed
in in Paris. Wliile as for the remainder, he was left
completely in the dark as to whether the appointment
referred to was with Barrett or with Lemaitrc. If
with Barrett, the telegram told him absolutely nothing ;
if with Lemaitre, it told him practically the same. Net
result, considerable irritation and a total lack of any
addition to his knowledge.

However, George's next telegram would probably
explain what he really meant, and ^•ery likely there
would be a letter from him in the morning. With such
reflections Bill endeavoured to calm his mind. After
all, if one didn't trust one's ambassadors, one could never
hope to get anywhere.

Later in the afternoon he carried out the first part of
his share in the general plan of campaign, by paying a
visit to his bank manager. So far as it went, the
interview was a satisfactory one. That is to say that
neither the manager nor his assistant, whose silent
presence was one of the most unnerving features of the
whole affair, laughed loudly or gave other signs of visible
contempt at the idea of Messrs. Eraser and Company
coming to them for a loan. Indeed, to Bill's consider-
able surprise, they displayed evidence of genuine dis-

120 BILL THE BACHELOR

appointment, when he made it clear that he was only
preparing himself for a contingency, and not putting
forward a definite proposal. But then, that is bank
managers all over. The same man who pulls you up
for a five pound overdraft on your private account,
would (if you only knew it) engage in the most desperate
competition to lend you a thousand times that amount.
The exaggerated terms in which this particular manager
spoke of the reputation of Fraser and Company would
have brought tears to Bill's eyes, if it hadn't been for the
exaggerated terms on which he proposed, as he described
it, to " oblige " him.

But at the moment neither the sum to be raised nor
the exact security which would be required for it, were
or could be definitely agreed. Bill's only intention
had been to test the state of the market and to create,
if possible, an atmosphere of hope and confidence in the
manager's mind. And, on the whole, the thing passed
off well. For though he could see no further than any-
one else into the mysteries of that mind, yet surely
it was a good sign that at the end of the interview
Mr. Moodie's should accompany him as far as the very
threshold of the bank. The doors had been closed for
the night, and Bill had to make his exit through a small
hole in a revolving steel shutter, but the manager's
last words, wafted out through this orifice, had been
an expression of his and his directors' desire to do every-
thing possible to encourage export trade.

Bill gave a sigh of relief, and a second sigh indicating
anxiety, and hurried back to his own desk, where he
wrote a brief note to George, telling him what had been
ttchieved, and sent it out to be posted with a late fee
so that it should catch the night mail.

And then, although he was engaged to dine at Maurice's
that evening, he waited in his room until past seven,
in the hope that further news might arrive from Paris.
But none came. On the way to the Underground, how-
ever, he was fortunate enough to discover a belated
hawker with a stock-in-trade consisting of furry black
spiders and furry yellow chickens, and by purchasing

A FEW TELEGRAMS 121

half-a-dozen of the latter — for the spiders were frankly
terrifying — he hoped to secure Sylvia's forgiveness for
breaking his customary appointment with her.

But it was a disappointing kind of evening, for as well
as missing his time with Sylvia, he found that Beatrix
had gone to bed with a sudden cold and that Maurice
had come back from his chambers in a state of complete
exhaustion. Bill realised that his presence could only
be explained by the fact that it had been less trouble
to let him come than to telephone and put him off ;
which is, of course, one of the penalties of being a near
relation.

What with Maurice's fatigue and his own pre-occupa-
tion, they had a pretty silent dinner. Several times
Bill found himself on the verge of speaking of the
Lemaitre business, but each time he hesitated, and in
the end he was glad that he had held his tongue. For
food and drink having eventually enabled Maurice to
overcome the worst part of his lassitude, he suddenly
began to entertain his brother with the story of certain
litigation on which he was engaged, some of the details
of which bore a most unattractive resemblance to the
kind of thing that might happen if Fraser and Company
should find later on that they had bitten off more than
they could chew.

" I can't understand any fellow being such a silly
ass as to meddle with that kind of show," said Maurice,
" when everyone knows the state of the exchange.
Can you ? "

" Oh, I don't know," Bill answered hypocritically.
" One has to take risks sometimes."

Maurice gave a startled look at hearing this unexpected
creed, but he answered :

" Sometimes, certainly. But this fellow was doing
it all the time."

Bill mumbled some kind of agreement, but on the
whole he was conscious that, if anything, Maurice's
remarks had strengthened his determination to go through
with the affair, if it should be possible to do so. This is
almost invariably the effect of advice from relations.

122 BILL THE BACHELOR

even on far more reasonable natures than Bill
Eraser's.

" By the way," said Maurice, interrupting these
thoughts, " how did your week-end go off ? Have a
good time ? "

" Yes, thanks. Quite."

" Place much changed ? "

" No. Surprisingly little. They've got a hard tennis
court."

"Who have?"

" Lord Longwood, I mean."

" Oh, I was talking about the White House. Are
the Cattersons still there ? "

" No," said Bill. " It's empty."

" Is it ? " said Maurice, with fresh signs of returning
energy. " Are they trying to sell it ? "

" Lord Longwood bought it," Bill explained. " I
don't know whether he means to sell or let, but I believe
he's rather particular about what sort of people get it.
It's so very near, of course."

" Of course it's near. But I don't suppose he
would object if we were there, for instance. Do
you ? "

" Oh, no." The only person to object would be Bill
himself, and that, as he quite realised, on the most
preposterously indefensible grounds. What good would
a country house be to him ?

" Well, I shall write to him, then," said Maurice.
" Very likely he'll want more than I can give, but it
can't do any harm to find out. And it can't do any
harm to let him know that I'm after it," he added.

Bill again offered up his impious prayer that Lord
Longwood might set an impossible price on the property,
but aloud he answered :

" Oh, rather not."

If the house were only his, then Maurice and Beatrix
and as many children as they cared to have could
stay there as long and as often as they liked. Oh, no,
he wasn't selfish in that way. And if they liked, he
would leave it to Sylvia when he died. He didn't mind

A FEW TELEGRAMS 128

doing that. That was, unless — unless . . . He sup-
posed he meant unless he got married.

But, hang it all, he knew the place didn't mean to
Maurice what it meant to him.

" Oh, well," he said to himself; " I don't care. He
can have it if he likes. He probably will, what's more.
But I shan't stop wanting it."

The evening came to a comparatively early end, for
Maurice made no attempt to conceal his desire for bed,
and his yawns were becoming contagious. He staggered,
however, as far as the front door, where the fresh air
revived him sufficiently for him to be entrusted with
the yellow chickens.

" I'll see she gets them," he promised. " And I'll
convey your apologies."

" You'd better not put them in your pocket," said
Bill. " Their legs aren't any too strong. Besides
you'll only forget them."

It is at these odd moments on draughty doorsteps that
even brothers are apt to become confidential, and at this
point Maurice suddenly remarked that Sylvia was
expecting a brother.

" A brother ? " repeated Bill. He felt he would have
preferred another niece.

" Yes," said Maurice firmly.

Bill realised the futility of an argument, so he offered
his congratulations and enquired when the brother was
due.

" November," said Maurice, looking gloomily at the
pavement. " It makes me feel damned old."

" Oh, rot ! "

" You don't understand. Two of 'em make one feel
much older than one. You'll see, one day."

How dashed patronising married people were.
Always going on as if only they knew what life
meant.

" I thought Beatrix looked very well the last? time I
saw her," Bill suggested.

"Oh, yes. She's all right. But I loathe it. Only, of
course — oh, well." He shrugged his shoulders. " By

124 BILL THE BACHELOR

the way," he added, "-she doesn't want people told yet.
You understand ? "

" Oh, rather not. Well, good-night."

" Good-night."

At the corner of the street Bill turned and looked
back. His brother was still standing silhouetted in his
doorway, and he realised that even successful young
barristers aren't always happy. It struck him also, not
for the first time, that it was a curious kind of a world.

Now that he was out of the house, the desire to go to
bed seemed to have left him, and he decided that he
would walk back to the flat. He set off at a steady
four miles an hour.

On the way he had to pass through a square of big
houses. Before one of them a strip of red carpet lay
across the pavement, and a string of motors was drawn
up by the square railings. PVom the first-floor windows
there came a burst of light, and the rhythmic sound of
music. While below, staring up at the house, a little
knot of surly and dingy-looking men stood silently
watching.

One cannot say what philosophical vapourings this
post-war scene might not have suggested to his rumina-
tive mind, for their approach was driven away by the
sudden discovery that he recognised the tune which the
band was playing. At least, not the whole tune, but
one particular bit of it which recurred at stated and
regular intervals. There could be no doubt of it ; this
was the phrase to which Leslie had asked him to put a
name, when he had first found himself alone with her
in the garden at Hare Hall. Bill instantly conceived
what appeared at the moment an extraordinarily
ingenious plan. He would go into a music shop to
morrow morning, and whistle that tune to the young
lady at the counter ; she would then acquaint him with
its name, and he would buy it. Then he would send it
to Leslie with the thank-letter which he already owed
her, but whose construction had somehow hitherto
defied all his efforts, and Leslie would write back to him.
He didn't see how she could avoid it.

A FEW TELEGRAMS 125

The more he considered this scheme, the more ad-
vantages he saw in it. He was particularly attracted
by what struck him as its naturalness. And so im-
portant had it suddenly become, that for the first time
since he had parted from the continental boat train the
night before, he left off wondering what George was
doing, and how he was getting on, and what the end of
it all was going to be. The only thing that mattered
now was to remember that tune.

So he sang it to himself all the way home, and hummed
it in the lift (to the liftman's obvious disgust), and then,
although he was quite certain that he had got it fixed
in his head, yet, so that nothing should be left to chance,
he committed it to the back of an envelope by means
of a new kind of notation, specially invented for the
occasion.

The general appearance of the tune in this form was
that of a temperature chart in a prolonged and serious
case of intermittent fever. That is to say, that when
the tune reached a high note, the pencil line went up,
and when the tune went down again, the line did the
same. Surely it >vill be agreed that this was as good
a way as any other for a man without musical education
to attempt to lay an elusive air by the heels. Preferable,
anyhow, to the only other alternative that Bill could
conceive, which would have been to go on singing it all
night.

But for all his trouble, when the morning came, the
dashed thing had gone.

In vain did he stand with the envelope in front of his
shaving-glass and cause his voice to swoop up and down
in an endless series of varying howls. In vain did he
close his eyes, and strive desperately to recapture it by
imagining that it was still last night. By neither of
these means, nor by any of the remaining devices that
he tried, did he succeed in summoning up anything
remotely resembling the real or, indeed, any other tune ;
and by the time that he was due to start for the office,
he saw that he would have to give it up. It might come
back of its own accord, or he might have the good fortune

126 BILL THE BACHELOR

to hear it again somewhere else, but short of these
accidents, the very basis of his whole, carefully thought-
out scheme had crumbled away. The thank-letter, now
without the excuse for its delay which the hoped-for
enclosure would have provided, must confine itself to
ordinary, formal expressions.

So he sat sulkily down at his writing-table and wrote
out his standard formula for week-end gratitude, which
now for the first time meant more instead of less than
it said. And he posted the envelope with such savage
violence that he barked his knuckles on the pillar-box ;
after which he occupied his journey to the office in
thinking of all the things which he might have said, but
hadn't.

In a shop window near the entrance to Pardon Court
he caught sight of, and took a fresh dislike to, his re-
flection.

" I wonder if a tonic is what I really want," he
muttered. " I feel exactly like all those advertisements
in the train."

There was nothing on his desk from George. What
on earth could the old idiot be up to ? Hadn't he
promised over and over again to communicate every
detail of what he was doing ? In a sudden fit of most
unsual temper. Bill snatched at his bundle of telegraph
forms and had begun drafting a sarcastic message,
overlooking in his annoyance the fact that his partner
would inevitably have taken it in its literal sense, when
the office-boy came in to announce the arrival of Mr.
Stromberg, the firm's correspondent at Helsingfors.

" All right," said Bill. " Send him along in." And
he put his telegram on one side.

Now although I am just as anxious as were the
directors of Bill's bank to give every encouragement to
British export trade, there can be no real advantage in
representing Mr. Stromberg as more attractive than he
actually was. His excessive plainness was a fault for
which it would be imfair to blame him, and we may
certainly set down his honesty and efficiency as to his
credit ; but it would be idle to pretend that either

A FEW TELEGRAMS 127

George Lucas or Bill Eraser had ever looked forward
to his periodical visits with anything but dread. Why it
was that a man whose letters were always short and to
the point, and were written, moreover, in quite reason-
ably correct English, should become so interminably
longwinded and so- completely unintelligible when he
appeared in the flesh, was a point which they had never
succeeded in clearing up. And do not, in your natural
haste to find fault with British business methods, blame
either of them too hastily for not having learnt Mr.
Stromberg's language. This wasn't the trouble. The
trouble was that Mr. Stromberg was so entirely and
unjustifiably satisfied with his ability to converse in
our mother tongue, that, once he had reached these
shores, he would never permit a single sentence to be
addressed to him through any other medium.

This tiresome idiosyncracy, taken in conjunction with
the fact that during his visits to London he was in the
habit of treating the office in Pardon Court as a home
from home, had the effect of making these visits a pretty
severe test of Messrs. Eraser and Company's tact and
patience. Fortunately he scarcely ever stayed for more
than two or three days, or there can be no telling what
might not have happened. For never yet had he taken
his departure without George announcing that in another
twelve hours he would have felt it his duty to murder
him ; a course of action which, quite apart from any
other effects, must have hit the remnants of Messrs.
Erasers' business very severely.

On this particular Wednesday morning Mr. Strom-
berg remained closeted with Bill for nearly three hours.
The first hour he occupied, as far as it was possible to
gather, in describing his journey from Finland ; and this
was really the easiest part, for Bill only had to look
interested and Mr. Stromberg was perfectl}^ satisfied.
At the conclusion of this portion of his recital he suddenly
asked where Mr. Lucas was, and when informed, entered
immediately on a long, confused, but (to judge from his
expression) disgustingly knowing harangue on the
subject of Paris, which in his view represented, appar-

128 BILL THE BACHELOR

ently, general debauchery and nothing else. Though
reluctant to sacrifice his partner's character, Bill felt
that if the alternative were to be an explanation of what
he was really doing, then George must look after himself.
And in any case, Mr. Stromberg seemed to think none
the worse of him for seething himself in vice; indeed,
on the whole, this misunderstanding seemed rather to
increase his confidence in the firm, and he began re-
counting a number of stories of what used to happen
in Petrograd in the old days, which, if Bill had under-
stood them, would probably have caused his hair to
stand on end. Fortunately Mr. Stromberg in this vein
reached his high-water-mark of incoherency and gibber-
ish.

About a quarter past twelve, however, he suddenly
remarked : " But this was not perhaps for what I am
not here, yess ? " and opened the leatherette despatch-
box which he had been nursing since his arrival. If
he were to be understood as meaning by this that it
would be a good thing to talk a little business for a
change, then Bill felt that he agreed with him, and he
braced himself once again.

One of Mr. Stromberg' s mannerisms when talking
what he believed to be English, was to fill up any of the
pauses which marked his search for a missing word with
a kind of buzzing sound. By this simple means he was
able at the same time to prevent anyone else from break-
ing in on him, while still retaining his right to resume as
soon as he had found the word for which he was looking.
As time went on, this buzzing would develop into a kind
of sustained drone, which mingled with the other
sounds of his voice, with the result that the longer he
was allowed to talk, the more difficult he became to
understand. This was, of course, a bad outlook for
the business part of the present conversation, but by
disregarding everything that he said, and concentrating
on the documents with which he illustrated his remarks,
Bill did succeed in obtaining a general idea of his mean-
ing.

And what he gathered in this way was all to the good.

A FEW TELEGRAMS 129

Trade was apparently reviving, a rival business had got
into difficulties which had led to an extension of the
area covered by Mr. Stromberg's firm, and the long and
short of it was that he was prepared to place a con-
siderably larger order than he had done for several years.

Bill had for some time realised that his next duty
would be to invite Mr. Stromberg to come out to lunch,
but now he felt that he had fairly earned this hospitality ;
so at the next convenient interval he said, very slowly,
loudly, and genially :

" What about some lunch, Mr. Stromberg ? I should
be very much pleased if you would join me somewhere."

To his surprise, instead of instantly closing >vith this
offer, as he had always done on his previous visits, Mr.
Stromberg replied :

" But I am so much more pleased if you shall yoin me."

" Oh, no," said Bill. " It's very good of you, but
you'd much better come along somewhere with me."

" But I shall neffer do that," answered Mr. Stromberg,
politely, but firmly. " Come. It iss all arranged
presently at once."

He began ramming his papers into his case, and
regardless of Bill's continued protests, he seized him
by the arm, led him out into the street and forced him
into a taxi.

" We eat at my hotel," he said.

And they did.

The name of this dreadful place had been known to
Bill for years, for Mr. Stromberg had never to his know-
ledge stayed anywhere else ; but this was his first (as
he instantly hoped it would be his last) experience of
its interior. Gazing round, as they took their seats on
opposite sides of the cactus which decorated their table,
he wondered, but wondered in vain, why, with all the
hundreds of establishments which he had to choose
from, Mr. Stromberg should yet continue to return time
after time to this unspeakable abode. But he no Icmger
wondered that he should spend so much of his visits to
London in the comparative gaiety of Pardon Court.

It really seemed incredible that such places could still

180 BILL THE BACHELOR

exist outside the pages of the Uncommercial Traveller,
but perhaps the region surrounding King's Cross Station
was particularly insensitive to change. Bill remembered
his one visit to Helsingfors, and the large, clean, com-
fortable hotel in which George and he had stayed ; and
then compared it with this frowsy mausoleum, which had
the impertinence to affect superiority by calling itself
" Private." Was it to tell of this gravy-splashed dining-
room and that dingy, gas-lighted corridor outside, that
Mr. Stromberg returned to his northern home from the
greatest city in the world ?

This whole, sudden revelation of London as it might
be seen by friendless foreigners — the humble ambassa-
dors whose composite opinion counts for so much more
in the goodwill of nations than that of their official
representatives — struck him so forcibly, that for the
moment he quite forgot to ask himself what, as a business
man, he should of course have been asking ; namely,
why Mr. Stromberg was for the first time in his life
offering him his hospitality, instead of following his
customary practice of taking as many meals as he could
possibly manage at Messrs. Eraser and Company's
expense. Such a sudden reversal of established pro-
cedure would have filled the true business man with
suspicion, but as Bill did his best to consume the alter-
nate charred and undercooked courses which were laid
before him, nothing was further from his thoughts than
that this horrid entertainment was intended by his host
to smooth the way for his commercial plans.

The discovery, however, had not to wait for very
long. Eor having pressed on his guest a curious, dark
object, which might have been taken for a cigar, if it
had not, fortunately, been practically fireproof, Mr.
Stromberg proceeded to deliver himself of a series of
confused utterances, whose purport Bill gradually
gathered was a suggested modification of the means by
which Messrs. Eraser were usually paid for their services.

Now quite apart from anything else, this was a matter
which it was sufficiently awkward to have to settle
in George's absence. But this wasn't all. Eor Mr.

A FEW TELEGRAMS 181

Stromberg's suggestion, if it were adopted, would cleai-ly
mean that Erasers' would be kept out of a pretty large
sum of money for several months, and this just at the
very moment when they might need every penny that
they could lay hands on in its most fluid and negotiable
form. Yet through the fog of his extraordinary dialect,
Mr. Stromberg's alternative loomed only too clear. If
Erasers' didn't care to fall in with his plan, then he
would take his business somewhere else, with the result
that they could probably whistle before it ever returned.

And to add to Bill's perplexity, Mr. Stromberg had
already informed him that he had arranged to leave
England on Thursday night, which must mean a definite
yes or no by this very afternoon at the latest. It was
all very well, he thought, to talk about taking risks,
but what were you to do when you were faced with two
different risks, and didn't even know which was the
greater ?

At one moment it seemed that the only thing to do
was to accept these altered terms, and telegraph to
George to drop his negotiations and come home. Yet
where would this land them in the end ? Suppose that
the next time Mr. Stromberg placed an order they found
that it had sunk back to or below the normal level,
would they be any nearer a permanent way out of their
difficulties ?

Yet it wouldn't be much fun, on the other hand, to
have to tell old George that he had been amusing himself
in his absence by dissolving the firm's most valuable
foreign connection. No, it certainly wouldn't.

" I'll tell you what," he said at last, breaking in on
Mr. Stromberg's endless buzz. " Let's go back to the
office and finish our talk there. I shall have to look
into this rather carefully, I'm afraid. It means a big
change for us, and I hardly like to say how it would suit
us without seeing how the rest of our orders stand."

Yes, that was the only thing to do. Play for time,
and hope that before he was driven into a comer, there
might be a telegram from George. As for the other
orders he knew how they stood only too well,

182 BILL THE BACHELOR

" By all means we shall do that," said Mr. Stromberg,
pleasantly. " I am not to hurry you except but it iss
necessary."

Taking this as agreement, Bill rose from his chair
and dropped his cigar into the cactus.

" Come along, then," he said.

In another taxi they rattled back to the City.

5

And lo and behold, as if in answer to his unspoken
prayer, on his desk Bill saw a telegram.

" Excuse me," he said, and without waiting for
further permission, he tore it open.

" Lemattre has accepted offer twelve hundred thousand
francs. Very sorry, but in circumstances impossible do
more. Returning to-morrow by Boulogne. George. ^^

He crumpled the paper with one hand and stuffed it
into his pocket.

It was all off, then. Some one else, with the money
there to put on the table, had got in first. Faced with
this accomplished fact, of course it was impossible for
George to do any more. For some reason they had
both assumed that if there were any truth in Barrett's
message, then it must all be true. Yet why, after all,
shouldn't other people, there on the spot, have got just
as early information as his ? And this, of course, was
exactly what must have happened. In other words,
Fraser and Company had never had a chance; He
might have known it. Hadn't there been a curse on
everything they had touched ever since the beginning of
that filthy war ?

Poor old George. How sick he must be.

Bill pulled out his handkerchief and passed it across
his forehead, and as he did so he suddenly realised
that Mr. Stromberg was staring at him.

" It is bad telegraphs, yess ? " he was asking hopefully.

" No," said Bill with an effort. " Not at all. It's
from Lucas, to say he'll be back to-morrow night. We
shall have to fix this thing up without him."

A FEW TELEGRAMS 188

" Fix ? Yess," said Mr. Stroniberg. " And now you
shall look to those other orders also."

It was on the tip of Bill's tongue to reply, " What
other orders ? " but he just remembered in time. Having
said as much as he had, he must at least go through the
appearance of consulting something or somebody. The
credit with the bank would, he knew, be all right, for he
had, of course, gone into this yesterday with Mr. Moodie.

" Look here," he said. " Here's the newspaper.
Can you make yourself comfortable here for a bit, while
I go and look into the thing properly. I shan't be long."

" But surely," answered Mr. Stromberg. And at this
moment the telephone bell rang.

Dash it all ! Why must everything always happen at
once ?

" Excuse me," said^Bill again, and picked up the
receiver.

" Hullo I " he shouted. You know the way that one
is apt to shout when the telephone rings at the wrong
moment.

" Can I speak to Mr. Fraser, please ? " said a voice.

" This is Mr. Fraser speaking. Who is it there ? "

" Oh, it's you, is it ? I say, have you got my sponge ? "

" Have I got your what ? "

" My sponge. S for soap, p for pipe, o for over-
flow "

" I'm afraid there must be some mistake," Bill
interrupted. " This is Mr. Alexander Fraser. If you
are quite certain it's me you want, would you please
mind telling me your name ? "

The icy politeness of these words must, you would
have thought, have struck terror into the bravest heart.
But Bill detected no sound of fear in the voice which
answered him.

" Good Lord ! " said this voice. " Have I interrupted
you while you were making your fortune ? I'm so sorry.
I'm Wog Lorden."

" Oh, yes. Miss Lorden ; of course."

Out of the tail of his eye. Bill saw Mr. Stromberg prick
up his ears. In another minute he would obviously

184 BILL THE BACHELOR

begin being knowing about him too. Hang it all,
Wog might have waited until he had got back to the
flat.

" I say," she was continuing, " I'm awfully sorry to
trouble you, but I couldn't find my sponge when I got
back to London, and I've asked Leslie and she says she
can't find it either ; so I thought it might have been
packed with your things by mistake. It was a very big
one. Quite new. You couldn't possibly not recognise it."

" I'm very sorry. Miss Lorden," said Bill, " but I'm
quite certain I haven't got it."

" Well, you might sound a bit sorrier," said Wog.

Drat the girl !

" I am very sorry," he repeated, slowly and coldly.
" Will that do ? "

" I don't know what the matter is with you to-day,"
Wog answered. " If only you'd been a bit pleasanter,
I might have told you something. But now I shan't.
Good-bye."

Well, if she hoped to keep him hanging on to the
telephone by this silly kind of mystery, she was wrong.
He'd had enough.

" Good-bye," he said. " I hope you'll find your
sponge."

" I hope you'll find out whn,t I was going to tell you,"
said Wog, and with a click she was gone.

The second that Bill had put back the receiver, the
poison which this extraordinary young woman had
dropped in his ear began to work. If only he had known
how to get hold of her, he would have rimg her up there
and then and begged her to explain herself. But he
didn't know how to get hold of her, and there was Mr.
Stromberg obviously bursting with pleasure at having
discovered that both the partners in Frasers' were men
without morals, and, after all, there were other things
to do. So he pushed the telephone away, and tried to
put the whole interruption out of his head.

But one can't forget things to order. The problem
remained present as an irritation at the back of his mind
all through his long afternoon at the office, and when at

A FEW TELEGRAMS 1«5

last he had shipped Mr. Stromberg off to his hotel,
having reached a verbal agreement which was to be
confirmed in writing the next morning, the first thing
he did was to turn to the letter L in the telephone
directory. But the choice which he found there was
too wide. Anxious as he now was to offer his apologies
and beg to be given another chance, he could hardly
ring up twenty strange houses in order to do so. Be-
sides, if Wog were as impoverished as Leslie had repre-
sented her to be, she probably wasn't on the telephone
at all.

Yet by this time he had, of course, got it firmly fixed
in his head that the message had something to do with
Leslie, and he gave himself a very unpleasant evening
by imagining all the things that he might have missed
by letting his temper get the better of him. He even
went the length of seriously considering whether he
should not buy a sponge and post it down to Hare Hall
with a message of repentance. It was fortunate,
perhaps, that by this time the shops were all shut.

The morning found him well on the way towards the
recovery of his sanity, but there was still a test in store
for him, in case he should have forgotten too easily.
For on the back page of his daily paper there was re-
produced a photograph of Leslie and her father, engaged
in crossing a street in the peculiar manner affected by
people in such pictures. Her name was not given, but
beneath the photograph he read, " Lord Longwood,
whose appointment to the new Taxation Committee is
announced, walking in the West End yesterday."

Bill's spoken comment had escaped him before he
had time to realise what was coming,

" Hai-vey ! " he muttered.

And then : " But is it Harvey ? "

He turned hastily to the news columns, half expecting
to find the list of committee-members ending up with
the words, " Joint Secretaries, Mr. Blank Dash and Mr.
Austin Harvey (unpaid)." But though the name wasn't
there, what he read seemed by no means calculated to
put his hall-formed theory out of court. For the sub-

186 BILL THE BACHELOR

editor, though anxious apparently to do his duty by his
public in providing them with particulars of the members'
careers, had, with all the resources of his great organisa-
tion behind him, found nothing better to say when he
came to Lord Longwood, than that his father had been
well known as Sir Andrew Grahame, and that he had
large industrial and financial interests.

If this sort of thing represented informed public
opinion, then why had the newspaper photographer
gone stalking the second Lord Longwood through what
he called the West End, twelve good hours before the
names of the committee had been issued to the Press ?
Why were there no pictures of any of the other members ?

There seemed only one answer. Harvey.

Then what would the next move be ?

How could one tell ? Judging by this beginning, it
seemed clear that Lord Longwood was going to be run
on considerably more dignified lines than had been
thought good enough for Colonel Baxter. One would
not, for instance, expect to find him contributing articles
on mixed bathing to Sunday newspapers ; but to what
did a position on a big Government committee generally
lead ? To a peerage ; but Lord Longwood had already
got that. Was the unfortunate man to be sent into
politics, then ? Would it be Harvey's idea of " making
things hum " to get his employer into the Cabinet ?

At this point Bill's thoughts paused, and swung round
again in the inevitable reaction. For what evidence of
any serious description had he got to support this fan-
tastic idea ? Would he, for example, have the courage
or impudence to go to Lord Longwood, tell him what he
suspected of the Baxter business, and warn him against
the private secretary whom he had a month ago been
warmly recommending ? No, of course he wouldn't.
He was letting his imagination play tricks with him.
Why shouldn't the Government put a rich peer on a new
committee of enquiry, if they wanted to ? Hadn't
they been doing the same kind of thing for years ?

Besides, dash it all, how long had Harvey been in
this new job ? The idea was absurd.

A FEW TELEGRAMS 187

To suppose that Lord Longwood couldn't look after
himself 1 Of course it was absurd.

But one might as well cut out the photograph and put
it in one's blotting-book. That, at any rate, would
commit one to nothing.

And that was what this strange Bill of ours proceeded
forthwith to do.

6

There followed another wearisome day with Mr,
Stromberg.

He set in about eleven o'clock, and remained in con-
stant occupation of the office, telephoning and receiving
his visitors, until well after six, when Bill went with
him to Kjng's Cross and saw him into the train for New-
castle.

His brain was reeling as he left the station, and the
muscles of his throat were stiff with the sympathetic
movements with which they had been involuntarily
accompanying Mr. Stromberg' s onslaughts on the Eng-
lish tongue. But for another year, at the very least,
they could only communicate with each other by letter,
and the knowledge of this made it easy to forgive him all.
Of this, and of the orders which were now safely filed
at Pardon Court. After all, there would be something
to cheer old George up with when he came back. One
mustn't forget that. Perhaps it would be a good idea
to go and meet his train. Very likely he would need a
bit of cheering up after his fruitless expedition.

The Folkestone boat express was due at Victoria at
ten minutes past ten. Bill dined quietly at the flat,
smoked a pipe over a book, and then, with plenty of
time still in hand, he walked out towards the station.
As you probably remember, the authorities responsible
for the planning of this particular terminus seem
to have overlooked until it was too late the fact that
His Majesty's Customs and Excise would require a
considerable superficial area in which to carry out their
pointless and irritating duties ; and the result is that
whenever a boat train arrives at Victoria, a pro-
longed and confused melee takes place, in which

188 BILL THE BACHELOR

travellers, travellers' friends, porters, policemen, and
Customs officials become inextricably entangled with
the baggage, each other, and several hundred feet of
wooden barrier. From the moment that the train is
signalled, knots of more or less frantic persons dash
wildly about in the hope of discovering some place
within sight of the platform where they will be permitted
to wait ; an intention which the station officials are
indefatigable in preventing them from carrying out.
Moreover, in order the more thoroughly to impress
visitors to these shores with the British genius for
organisation, a single, narrow archway provides at
once an entrance and an exit for all the vehicles into
which the travellers are hoping ultimately to convey
themselves and their belongings. To meet a solitary
arrival by a boat train is, in short, no joke.

But George Lucas's spectacles, his lanky figure and
his slouching walk were distinguishing signs which greatly
assisted in differentiating him from a needle in a bottle
of hay, and the melee had been in progress but a com-
paratively short time, when Bill suddenly detected these
well-known features forcing their way through the thick
of it. Needless to say, George had made his appearance
on the opposite side of the wooden barrier ; but in a
concourse which consisted so largely of hysterical
aliens, Bill had little hesitation in shouting at him.

" Hi ! George ! " he yelled, and he brandished his
hat in the air.

Of the thirty or forty people who turned to stare at
him, George Lucas was fortunately one, and he rapidly
signalled a route by which there seemed some hope of
their meeting. In three or four minutes a junction had
been effected.

" Hullo ! " the partners remarked to each other.

" What sort of a crossing ? " asked Bill.

" Rather wobbly," said George. " I say, is anything
the matter ? "

" No, of course not. I only thought I'd come and
meet you."

George looked relieved.

A FEW TELEGRAMS 1«9

" Did you get my telegrams ? " he asked.

" Yes," said Bill. " What there was of them."

George grinned in a nervous and mysterious manner.

" I'm awfully sorry " he began.

" My dear old fellow, that's perfectly all right. I'm
sure you did your best. Don't you worry about that."

" That's good of you," said George, with a further look
of relief. " I got in a stew afterwards that you'd think
I'd gone too far."

" Gone too far ? How do you mean that ? "

" Over the agreement," said George, beginning to
look puzzled.

" But what agreement ? " They seemed to be at
some kind of cross purposes.

" Here," said George, slapping his breast pocket.
" But it was a case of now or never, and I knew you'd
have done the same if you'd been there."

" My dear George," said Bill, " I'm very sorry to
appear unintelligent, but would you mind telling me
what agreement you are talking about, and with whom ?"

" Why, our agreement with Lemaitre," answered
George. " You said vou'd got my telegram, didn't
you ? "

A horrible light seemed suddenly to break over Bill.

" Yes," he stammered. " Certainlv ; but ..."

" But what ? "

" Do you mean to tell me that it was your offer that
was accepted ? "

" My dear old man, didn't I say so ? "

" Didn't you Look here," said Bill, and he

pulled the crumpled message out of his pocket. " Is
there a single word there about its being your offer ?
Is there, now ? "

George placed the telegram at his usual distance of
about seven inches from his spectacles, and examined it
closely.

" It's perfectly clear," he announced.

"Clear!'; shouted Bill. "Clear as bilge-water.
What the dickens did you mean by saying you were so

140 BILL THE BACHELOR

sorry but you couldn't do any more, and you were
coming home ? Would any man in Ms sane senses
gather anything from that except that some other
blighter had got in first and outbid us ? "

George was still poring over his remarkable composi-
tion.

" I see what you mean," he said slowly. " I say,
I'm awfully sorry. Of course ; how damned funny ! "
And he began to laugh. To Bill it seemed the laughter
of a maniac.

" That's right," he broke out. " Ha-ha, by all means.
And very laughable too. But where do you suppose
the money's going to come from ? "

" Oh, the money will be all right," said George. " I
say, hang it all, I think you might look a bit more
pleased. Don't you realise what I've done for you ? "

And the worst of it was that, for all his rage and despair
this was exactly what Bill did realise. But for that
infernal telegram and its effect on his arrangements
with Mr. Stromberg, he would probably have been crown-
ing old George with laurels and wild parsley for having
put the deal through, even at twelve hundred thousand
francs of borrowed money.

" I know," he said wretchedly. " You've done
wonders ; but — but look here, we can't stand talking
here all night. Come back to the flat with me. We've
got to have this thing out."

Still exhibiting nothing more than mild surprise,
George followed his partner out into the station yard.
They found a taxi, and drove quickly to Regency House.

" Have a drink first," said Bill, leading the way into
his sitting-room.

" Thank you," answered George politely. " Whisky
and soda, I think."

Bill produced the fatal bottle, whose acquisition
seemed now to have led by a direct chain of events to
this appalling situation, and mixed his partner a glass.

" Now, then," he said. " First of all, what does this
agreement say ? Have you paid them anything yet,
and do we forfeit that if we back out ? "

A FEW TELEGRAMS 141

" It's perfectly all right," George was beginning, but
Bill broke in again.

" I know it is," he said. " I don't doubt it for an
instant. But this is the trouble. I've gone and let us
in for financing a big deal with Stromberg while you
were away, and I want to know how I stand."

George put down his glass untasted.

" You've done what ? " he said. " But that's not
our business. What's the amount ? "

" Fifteen thousand pounds. And we've got to find
the money for six months. I tell you, it was take it
or leave it, and "

" You did this because of my telegram ? "

What was the use of hedging ? The gods on high
must decide which of the partners in Eraser and Com-
pany was the more completely incompetent business
man, but meanwhile there was nothing to be gained by
either of them concealing anything from the other.

Bill nodded.

" Good Lord ! " said George, " I'll never send another
telegram as long as I live. Listen to this. I gave
Lemaitre my cheque for four thousand."

" Francs ? "

" No, pounds."

" But we haven't "

" I know. But there was plenty of time to raise it.'*

" Well, go on. What then ? "

" And I've signed an agreement to pay the balance
within a month."

"And if we don't?"

" We've just got to. If we don't, he can sue us for
it."

" It wasn't an option, you mean ? "

" No," said George. " It was like you and Strom-
berg."

" What do you mean ? "

*' It was jolly well take it or leave it."

" Oh," said Bill ; and they remained staring at each
other in solemn, interminable silence.

IV
MR. GIRLING

Daylight was beginning to make itself faintly felt
outside the window before the two principals in Messrs.
Fraser and Company finally separated. Through all
the long hours of the night, regardless of everything
except the matter under discussion, they had talked
and argued, and argued and talked. And at the end
of it all neither of them had budged so much as an inch
from his own attitude towards the problem at issue,
and no decision of any kind had been reached. George
Lucas, who was a great believer in solvitur ambulando,
and must have walked nearly fifteen miles round the
sitting-room table during the night, had through thick
and thin returned to and reiterated his one, unjustifiable
refrain.

" It's all perfectly simple," he would begin again and
again, and no matter where the argument led them, at
a given point he would always make a fresh start from
this same extraordinary postulate.

" It's all perfectly simple," he said. " You can say
what you like, but we've got two jolly good investments.
I quite admit that some time in the next few weeks
we've got to raise something like forty thousand pounds,
and " — he raised his hand to stem Bill's attempted
interruption — " and I quite admit that at the moment
I have no idea how we're going to do it. But, hang it
all, we know that Stromberg is all right, and we know
that Lemaitre is all right. Well, what more do you
want ? "

Bill, who found that his brain did itself most justice
when he was lying on the sofa with his feet propped up

142

MR. GIRLING 148

on the end, returned to the attack. In spite of his
attitude, there seemed no lack of vigour in his mind.

" I give you Stromberg by all means," he said. " But
as for Lemaitre, I know nothing except that we've been
and bought his business. Incidentally we can't pay him.
But leaving that on one side, how on earth can we tell,
simply by looking at a lot of figures that he and Barrett
have shown you, that he hasn't done us in the eye.
Why should he be in such an infernal hurrv to sell out ?
Tell me that."

" That's perfectly simple," said George again. " He's
just been told that his wife can't live unless she goes to
Algeria for good. I've told you that six times."

" That's what he says," answered Bill heartlessly.

" But hang it all, I've seen her," shouted George.
" There's no fake there."

Whether there was or wasn't. Bill was sensible that
at this stage it was hardly possible to ask for a medical
certificate. He contented himself with a dubious
grunt.

" And look here," George continued ; " it's no good
talking about what we might or might not have done.
We've got to face the facts."

" I absolutely agree," said Bill. But though he hadn't
yet said so, it seemed to him that this was just what he
couldn't get George to do. As far as anything was
clear in liis mind, the only possible course appeared to
be to try and get some one else to take over a very large
part of their commitments. This would mean a loss,
almost certainly, but the alternative looked most
unpleasantly like bankruptcy. Yet to all arguments of
this description his remarkable partner was completely
deaf. Nothing would induce him to consider letting
go his hold on any portion of either of the deals.

" This is our one chance," he kept on saying, " of
going ahead. We simply can't afford to let anything
out of our hands."

" Well, perhaps you'll tell me how we can afford to
keep anything in them," Bill retorted at last.

" You don't understand," said George. " As long

144 BILL THE BACHELOR

as we don't lose control, I don't care how much we
borrow."

" But that's just my point. We can't borrow any
more without losing control."

" But surely some one could be got to advance it,"
said George, his tone suggesting that by introducing
this fresh word he had also brought in an entirely new
idea ; and the next moment, before Bill could adjust
his objection to this altered form, he suddenly stopped
in his tracks, and thumped the table with his hand.

" I've got it," he said. " Lord Longwood ! Old
family friend ; pots of money ; knows all about textiles ;
ought to be only too "

" No ! " shouted Bill, sitting up with a start. " I'm
very sorry, George, but I'll see the whole business go to
blazes, before I try to borrow a single halfpenny there.
Is that clear ? "

" Oh, perfectly," said George ; and then he grinned.
" Perfectly," he repeated.

" Look here, you low-minded old owl," said Bill,
struggling to his feet. " What on earth do you mean
by making that face ?"

" There, there," said George soothingly. " Lie down
again. It's all right. I didn't mean anything."

" You'd better not," Bill muttered threateningly.

And at these words, to his horror and surprise, his
partner suddenly broke into the most amazing and
uncharacteristic apology, apparently for the way in
which he had represented their joint interests in Paris.
But so rambling and incoherent did he become that it
was hard to be certain even of this. At one moment
he was heaping mud on his own head, and at the next
scooping it off again and distributing it indiscriminately
on his relations, his business rivals and the Russian
people. Bill did his best to stop him, for he found it a
most painfully embarrassing scen«, but every time he
spoke he was shouted down.

" No, no," said George, waving the interruptions aside
with his hand. " You don't understand. You don't
know what your father did for me. But I'll see you

MR. GIRLING 145

through on this, if I have to sell my clothes and every-
thing else. I'll "

" But there's no question of "

" You've trusted me," George bellowed. " And this
is all I've done. But I tell you it's going to be all right.
You'll not have to go on supporting me for ever.

You'll "

But I'm not supporting-

" Ass ! Fool ! Idiot ! " yelled George, and then,
seeing Bill start, explained : "I mean myself."

" Oh, shut up, George. You're tired out ; that's all.
We shan't get any further by talking about this to-night.
You'd much better go to bed."

" Had I ? " he asked, in a helpless kind of way.

" Yes, of course you had. And you'd better have my
room. I shall be all right in here. You can't possibly
carry that bag all the way home, and we shall never get
a taxi now."

" That's true," said George, all quiet again now.
" And I shouldn't be able to get into my rooms if I did.
But I'll have the sofa, thanks very much all the same."

And argument on this point was useless. Nothing
would move him.

" All right, then," said Bill at last. " I'll get you a
rug."

" I've got all I want in my bag, thank vou. I have
really."

But he accepted the rug when it was brought, and the
last that Bill saw of him, when he looked in a little later,
was a huddled and monstrous mass, breathing peacefully,
with his feet in the coal-scuttle ; and on the corner of
the sitting-room table his still untasted glass of whisky
and soda.

Somebody was standing by the bed and speaking.
" Woz matter ? " asked Bill sleepily.
" I say. Bill."

Bill opened his eyes, and beheld his partner, dressed,
shaved, and apparently in his right mind.

146 BILL THE BACHELOR

*' Hullo," he yawned. " Woz time ? "

" Wake up," said George. " I've got to catch a train."

" Train ? What train ? "

" I've thought it all out," said George. " I suppose
you've got Stromberg's order on the file ? "

" Yes," Bill answered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

*' Well, I shall go straight to the office and look through
it, and then I shall catch the quarter past ten to Leicester.
I'll wire Ledburys' that I'm coming. If we're expected
to give Stromberg six months' credit on a big order,
surely to goodness they can afford to meet us part of
the way. Anyhow, it's worth trying."

" Ledburys' can't fill the order by themselves," said
Bill. " They don't make half the stuff. We should
have to go to Brackett and Smith as well."

"All right, then. I'll go on to Nottingham and try
the same game with them."

Objections were obvious, even to a man who was still
only half awake : for credit isn't a question of persuasion,
but quite simply one of — well, credit. But Bill felt
that his destructive criticism had done enough. There
was certainly one chance in a thousand that some
arrangement might be reached with the manufacturers
which would not squeeze Erasers' out of all future dealing
with Finland. At any rate this was better than doing
nothing.

" All right," he said. " I'll come with you."

" No," said George. " You've got to stay and see that
my cheque isn't dishonoured. And Barrett will be
coming over on Sunday with Kessler — that's Lemaitre's
manager — to talk details, and if I'm not back, you'll
have to see them. By the way, I've ordered breakfast.
I hope you don't mind."

" Quite right," said Bill. " I'll be with you in two
seconds."

Nothing can look quite so bad in the morning as it
does at night ; perhaps this is why executions are kindly
arranged to take place so early ; and in spite of every-
thing, as he plied his partner with eggs and coffee, Bill
couldn't altogether give up hope. He even saw, looking

MR. GIRLING 147

at it again, that if they were still out of prison and still
solvent in seven or eight months from now, they would
probably be feeling rather pleased with themselves. But
the insuperable difficulty was, as it generally is, the
immediate future.

He gave voice to these opinions.

" I'm afraid you'll never trust me again, Bill," answ-
ered George. " But as a matter of fact, if things only
go right, my reputation alone will be worth twenty
thousand to us at any time."

George's buoyancy was only a shade less alarming
than George's despair, but perhaps it was just as well
that he should go off in a hopeful mood, so Bill answered :

" Oh, we'll get round it all somehow. Only, mind, no
more telegrams."

George laughed. It seemed impossible to believe
that this was the man who had been calling himself
all those names only a few hours ago.

" All right," he said. " Well, I must dash off now,
but I'll ring you up if anything important happens. I
suppose that's allowed ? "

So Bill was left behind to make the necessary prepara-
tions for meeting the four-thousand pound cheque, and
when he had done this, he was free to go on worrying
himself to death about everything else.

No message came through during the day, and no
letter arrived on the Saturday morning. But about
one o'clock, just as he was thinking of leaving the office,
the telephone rang and he was told tha;; Leicester wanted
him. In the fullness of time a faint, wheezy voice
made itself heard.

He pressed the receiver firmly against his ear.

" Hullo, George. Yes ? " he yelled.

" Is that you ? " asked the wheezy voice.

" Yes."

" I say, is it all right about my cheque ? "

" Yes, I've fixed it up. They've gone off with all
our War Loan."

" What ? "

148 BILL THE BACHELOR

" I say it's all right." {fortissimo.)

" Oh, good ! "

" I sav, George."

" Hullo. I can't hear you."

Bill took a desperate chance and Avaggled the receiver
rest. Desperate, because one never knows whetlier
this will improve things, or only result in the connection
being lost for ever.

" Is that better ? " he shouted.

" Yes, that's a bit better."
• Courage seemed for once to have been rewarded.

" I sav, how did you get on with Ledburys' ? "

" What ? "

Bill repeated himself, largo maestoso.

" I don't know," said George.

" What don't you know ? "

" There's something dashed queer going on up here,"
said George's voice. " They do nothing but ask ques-
tions, and say they must think it over. I can't make
out what's come over them. I can't get a definite
answer of any kind. It's most "

Here a female voice interrupted to enquire : " Will
you have another three minutes ? "

" Yes ! " Bill shrieked. He had certainly not been
speaking for more than one, but it never pays to argue
with a telephone operator.

" What was that noise ? " George was asking.

" She wanted to know if we'd have another three
minutes."

" What ? "

" Oh, never mind. Go on with what you were say-
ing."

" What ? "

" Oh, go on ! "

But now a rhythmic sound, as of a whale or some
other large animal snoring, began sweeping over the
conversation in great, regular gusts. Whenever the
creature paused to take breath. Bill and George both
shouted at each other, but the intervals were too slight
to be of any use. Once George was heard saying,

ME. GIRLIKG 149

" infernal row," and once, " see them again on Monday,"
but beyond these two snatches nothing further could be
distinguished.

In impotent fury Bill flew at the receiver-rest again.

" I am trying to get them for you," said a girl's
voice.

" But look here ! I was speaking to Leicester. I've
been cut off."

" Will you please replace your receiver ? I will hring
you later."

He obeyed, but he hadn't really very much hope.
Still he waited for another half hour, and then, as
nothing happened, he gave it up and went off to lunch.

All Saturday afternoon and all Sunday to be got
through somehow. What centuries it seemed since
that week-end at Hare Hall.

About four o'clock on Sunday afternoon we find Bill,
as he found himself, turning into Brook Street.

" Of course they're bound to be away," he was
muttering ; " but still, there's no harm in just passing
by the house."

Not much good either, for the closed shutters told
their unmistakable story. And the whole sombre,
dignified, wealthy fa§ade seemed only to emphasise
what he already knew so much too well ; the difference
between people who live in Brook Street and people who
live in bachelor flats.

" But, my dear good house," Bill addressed it, " your
master may be a lord, but he's only a business man. I
suppose you're aware of that ? "

But no trace of expression disturbed its placid ex-
terior. Steeped in the traditions of the eighteenth
century, for the old house in Brook Street, rank would
always be rank, and upstarts (by which it apparently
meant Bill) would always be upstarts.

Yet he was spiritless enough to creep round into the
mews at the back, where he spent nearly ten minutes
gazing thoughtfully at the wrong set of windows.

150 BILL THE BACHELOR

2

Monday morning, for once so slow in its arrival, came
at last ; and Bill hurried off to the City early, so as to
be in plenty of time to receive his visitors from Paris.
On his desk, however, was this letter, addressed to
George.

" M. Georges Lucas »

Fraser and Company.
Dear Sir,

I much regret to not to be possible to be present in
London on Monday, but hoping to be arrived during same
week and will communicate again.

Agree, sir, etc.,

Antoine Kessler."*^

Not a word of explanation, but at the moment the
postponement, whatever its cause, came as a consider-
able relief. Time, even a few days, might mean every-
thing in juggling with their liabilities. Yet Bill would
not have been Bill, if he had not spent nearly twenty
minutes trying to read between the lines of this letter,
before he finally wrote a formal acknowledgment and
sent it out to be filed.

Later in the morning there arrived a picture postcard
from George. " Sorry we were cut q^," he had scrawled
on it. " Am seeing L. again on Monday. Hope to go
on to Nottingham during the afternoon.''^

Not much news here either, but the office routine
served to keep Bill fairly well occupied all the morning,
and with the help of this distraction he even achieved
some success in putting his anxieties out of his mind.
At half-past one he went out to one of his solitary,
overcrowded lunches.

And then, shortly after three, just as he was getting
into his stride with his afternoon's work, the third and
by far the most unexpected and mysterious note made
its appearance.

" This come by 'and, sir," said the office-boy ; " and
they're waiting for an answer."

MR. GIRLING 151

Bill pushed his other papers aside and opened it.

" Dear Mr. Fraseri'^ he read, " / should esteem it as
a great favour if you could make it convenient to call upon
me here this afternoon.

" Yours very truly,

" Osman Girling.^ ^

Osman Girling ? Bill looked at the envelope again.

Yes, his name was there in full, and there was no
mistake about the address. Then he turned to the
office-boy, seized with the sudden idea that he was
playing some pointless kind of practical joke, but his
vacant countenance bore no trace which could support
this theory. And yet . . .

" When did this come ? " he asked.

" Just now, sir."

" Did you see who brought it ? "

" Yes, sir. Just a man, sir."

" All right. Ask him to wait a minute."

The boy went out again, slamming the door as usual.
But for once Bill hardly heard it. What, in heaven's
name, could Osman Girling want with him ? Of course
he knew the name, he had known it for years, but he
would as soon have expected a summons of this sort
from the Chancellor of the Exchequer. There must,
surely, be some mistake.

He picked up his telephone and asked for the
number at the head of the letter.

" Can I speak to Mr. Girling's secretaiy, please ? "
he enquired.

" Mr. Girling's secretaiy is speaking," said a man's
voice.

" This is Mr. Alexander Fraser," Bill began. " I've
just had a letter "

The secretary broke in.

" Mr. Fraser ? Oh, yes. Mr. Girling would be very
glad if you could come round and see him. Will that
be all right ? "

" Oh, yes. Certainly. I'll come along now. But "

««3 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Right," said the secretary, and rang off.

Now what on earth . . , ? Bill sat back and stared
again at the letter. " Yours very truly y^^ he read once
more, " Osman Girling,''''

There always are and there always have been a few
names in the business hierarchy the sound of which
conveys to those in the City the peculiar effect which
this name had on Bill Fraser. Nobody knows how
these men have started or whence they originally came.
No reference book will enlighten you as to their activities.
For though they are behind everything, they are in
nothing. Mysterious and remote from all definable
occupations or entanglements, they are known by all,
but known to none. Yet if the chairman of a big
trading corporation or financial trust should be seen
playing golf with one of these men, and if at the end of
the game that chairman should be seen to smile, then
the corporation or trust's stock will instantly rise. If,
on the other hand, the two should separate without this
phenomenon being observable, then you were wise to
sell quickly, while there is yet time ; for to-morrow it
may be too late.

No directorship of the Bank of England, no place in
the Honours List, will ever tempt one of these magical
beings to abandon his aloofness and ally himself definitely
with any financial party. On mystery and rumour they
thrive, and to mystery and rumour they remain con-
secrated. Even their end is veiled in obscurity. If
they die, then they do so by degrees, and woe betide
the speculator who assumes too hastily that the corpse is
cold. If they retire, it is only to increase the general
uncertainty as to when and where they will re-emerge.

It is only away from the City that their fellow-
creatures are allowed a glimpse of their tastes or natures.
For in the conduct of their recreations they will tolerate
and sometimes even welcome the public interest which
they seek to avoid when engaged on business. Morgan
Whitworth, you may remember, found time to run a
racing stable, until that still unexplained affair which
resulted in his trainer being charged with attempted

MR. GIRLING 158

homicide. Blakistone — G. F. Blakistone — was credited
with knowing more about old masters than anyone
in Bond Street, though he never appeared in the sale
room himself; nor in the dock, when " Conk " Lewin
was caught outside his house with the Slingsby Gains-
borough in the seat of his trousers. Even Osman
Girling was known outside the City as a highly unsuccess-
ful gambler in concert and opera seasons, though his
losses seemed only to increase his reputation in Lombard
Street.

What could a man of this calibre want with a partner
in a humble firm of export agents, a firm which he could
have bought outright at any moment that he chose,
and never have noticed the difference in his pass-
book ? He would " esteem it as a great favour " if
Mr. Fraser " could make it convenient " to go and see
him, would he ? Had the whole world. Bill wondered,
signalised the present crisis in his business affairs by
going mad ? He suddenly remembered the messenger,
and rang the bell.

" Tell the man who brought this letter," he said, when
the boy appeared, " that I am going round myself with
the answer, at once."

" Very good, sir."

" And I don't know when I shall be back, but if I'm
going to be very late, I'll try and telephone."

The boy again withdrew, and after one last look round
his dark little room, such as a man may be permitted
when he is setting out on an unknown adventure. Bill
picked up his hat and went forth.

Mr. Girling had addressed his letter from Imperial
Buildings, without mentioning number or floor, and in
ten minutes or less Bill was searching for his name on
the board in the entrance hall. But though his scrutiny
was painstaking and exhaustive, no such name was to
be seen.

In this unexpected difficulty, he ventured to interpose
between the hall-porter and his study of the Evening
News.

" Is Mr. Giriing's office in this building ? " he asked.

154 BILL THE BACHELOR

The porter dropped his newspaper and sprang to
attention.

"Have you an appointment, sir?" he enquired.

His threatening and penetrating glance made Bill
realise that Osman Girling's lair was better guarded
than most.

" Yes," he answered, and he waved the letter at the
porter.

" Will you please step this way ? "

The porter's attitude was still so tinged with suspicion
that Bill almost expected him to make the suggestion
that he should be blindfolded, but perhaps he counted
on the darkness of the stairs and corridors to serve this
purpose equally well. In two or three minutes they
arrived outside a door on which was painted " No
Exit."

" Just a moment, sir," said the porter. " What name
shall I say ? "

Bill told him.

The porter knocked gently and went in, and for five
more minutes Bill tried to amuse himself by reading a
set of directions which were to be followed in case of
fire. Then at last the door opened again, and a bald
young man stood in the entrance.

" Mr. Fraser ? " he suggested.

Bill bowed.

" Will you please come in ? Mr. Girling won't be
a moment."

Bill followed the bald young man into a small ante-
chamber, containing a desk, several chairs and a couple
of telephones. To his surprise, there was no sign of
the porter. Had the body been disposed of so quickly,
then ? He was irresistibly reminded of the fable in
Aesop about the footprints which were detected by the
fox as always approaching and never leaving the lion's
den.

" Will you please take a seat ? " continued the bald
young man. " May I take your hat ? Thanks. Have
you seen the Times? Oh, you have." (Why, Bill
wondered, were people who are kept waiting for appoint-

MR. GIRLING IBB

ments, never credited with having read the Times ?)
" Mr. Girling will be ready in a moment," he repeated,
by way of conclusion.

With these words the bald young man instantly
resumed his seat, and became feverishly occupied with
those rather showy portions of his duty which private
secretaries always reserve for the purpose of impressing
visitors. The desk fairly frothed with papers ; drawers
were opened and shut ; rubber stamps banged furiously
and envelopes were shied with unerring skill into a
basket balanced on the radiator. Once he suddenly
stooped, and puUing a speaking tube from some hidden
recess, became engaged in a long, whispered conversation
with. Bill suspected, nobody.

Yet, in spite of this suspicion. Bill found himself no
more proof against the moral effect of this display than
anyone else. The longer it went on, the more nervous
he became, and when at last a buzzer went off some-
where behind him, he nearly leapt out of his skin.

" Ah," said the bald young man. " Mr. Girling is
ready now. Will you come this way ? " And he rose
and opened an inner door.

" Mr. Fraser," he announced, and forthwith Bill
entered the presence.

The room in which he found himself was about as
unlike any of the ordinary varieties of City office as
anything he had ever seen. Its general decoration
suggested at first sight a private sitting-room in an
expensive hotel, but a private sitting-room on which
some more than usually determined tenant had succeeded
to some extent in impressing his own individuality.
The thick carpet, the heavy damask curtains revealing
further curtains of patterned lace, the tapestry-covered
chairs and sofas, all these suggested the hotel. But the
grand piano in the corner, the vases full of flowers, the
revolving bookcase filled with novels and surmounted
with framed photographs, all served to introduce a fresh
and confusing element. A fragile ormolu writing-table
in a dark corner was the nearest approach, and a pretty
distant one at that, to any visible sign of the conven-

156 BILL THE BACHELOR

tional office paraphernalia. The whole atmosphere
was heavy with a mixed, and by no means attractive
scent of roses and cigars.

A short, unhealthy-looking gentleman was reclining
on a sofa, with a little tea-table by his side on which a
silver kettle was gently steaming, and the only other
occupant of the room was a tall, grey-haired man,
smartly dressed in a Stock Exchange outfit, who was
standing with his back to the fireplace.

As Bill made his entrance and the door closed behind
him, the man on the sofa struggled to his feet and ex-
tended a hand.

" Ah, Mr. Eraser," he said, in a dry, toneless voice.
" Very good of you to come. I hope you will forgive
me for asking you to see me here, but the fact is — er —
my lumbago — ah ..."

" Oh, not at all," answered Bill, a little awkwardly,
and they shook hands.

" A — ah," grunted Mr. Girling, and subsided again on
to his sofa.

" Do you know Sir Donald Hammersmith ? " he went
on, and Bill found himself shaking hands with the
grey-haired man.

" Will you have some tea, Mr. Eraser ? " added Mr.
Girling.

" No, thank you very much."

Not at half -past three, if it was all the same to them.
" A cigar ? " suggested Mr. Girling. " Hammersmith,
where are the cigars ? "

The grey-haired man proffered a silver box, filled with
what looked like young torpedoes.

" No, thanks very much," Bill repeated. After dinner
yes, perhaps ; but not now, in this stuffy, overheated
room.

" Ah, you don't smoke ? " said Mr. Girling. " Well,
well ; never mind. Sit down, won't you. Hammer-
smith, take your hat off that chair. That's it. Thanks.
Now, then."

He felt in liis waistcoat pocket, extracted a gold
pencil-case, and began swinging it by a ring at the end.

MR. GIRLING 157

gazing all the while at the circling point. And then,
just as Bill was beginning to think that no one was ever
going to speak again, he went on.

" Sir Donald has just come back from Leicester," he
said.

" Oh, yes ? " answered Bill. And he looked at Sir
Donald, rather as though he were expecting to see some
outward evidence of the truth of this statement. Natur-
ally he saw nothing of the sort, but he did see him making
a kind of signal to Mr. Girling, as though he were re-
minding him of something.

" Yes, yes," said Mr. Girling a little impatiently,
and then turning to Bill again, he continued :

" Sir Donald and I have got a proposal to make to
you, Mr. Fraser. But perhaps before we go any further,
it would be just as well to make certain of one thing.
We are making it in confidence, and we should like to
have your undertaking that it remains confidential.
Is that — ah — agreeable to you ? "

" I take it you mean a business proposal ? " Bill
asked.

" Yes, yes," said Sir Donald. " Purely business."
" Then I imagine that my partner is included in this
confidence ? " Bill suggested.

Mr. Girling and Sir Donald glanced at each other
quickly.

" Of course," said Mr. Girling.
" Of course ; of course," echoed Sir Donald.
" I have no objection, then," said Bill. He had had
a wild thought of entering a stipulation that there should
be nothing illegal about the proposal, but one couldn't
really go quite as far as that.

" It's about this order," said Mr. Girling, his eyes
fixed again on his pencil case, " from Finland."

Bill gave a start. How on earth had these two
strangers come to learn of his dealings xNith Mr. Strom-
berg, and what in heaven's name had it got to do with
them? Could George have been up to more of his
pranks ? Or were they talking about something quite
separate ?

158 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Do you mean " he began.

" Your order for hosiery goods," said Sir Donald.

It was the same order, then.

" This is the position," Mr. Girling went on. " We
want you to place the whole of that order with " — here
he consulted a slip of paper which was trapped under
the edge of his saucer — " yes, with Peter Miller and
Sons."

" Of Nottingham," added Sir Donald from the hearth-
rug.

" I beg your pardon," said Bill, " but I'm afraid I
don't quite follow."

He certainly didn't. Of course he knew Millers' by
name, as an old-established manufacturing firm ; but
it was something quite outside his experience to be sent
for by a complete stranger and told how to carry on
his business.

" If you will do this," Mr. Girling went on, disregarding
his visitor's obvious amazement, " we should be pre-
pared to pay you an extra commission on the order.
Of course it would be understood that neither my name,
nor Sir Donald's, was brought into the affair in any way.
The amount of commission would be a matter for settle-
ment between us by agreement."

With a wrench. Bill jerked his eyes away from the
mesmeric gleaming of that gold pencil-case.

" I'm very sorry," he said, " but I'm afraid I still
don't quite understand."

Very slowly and carefully Mr. Girling repeated his
extraordinary proposal.

" But — but," said Bill, " I don't think you can appre-
ciate how we are placed. We've never dealt with Millers'
before. We've got to have credit for this order ; we
can't go through with it otherwise. Quite apart from
any other objections, how do you imagine that we should
get six or eight months' credit from people who don't
know us ? "

" I don't think you would find any difficulty over
that," said Mr. Girling.

" You mean . . . ? "

MR. GIRLING 159

" I mean that I think you would find Messrs. Miller
quite prepared to meet you."

Bill scowled at the carpet in bewildered thought. It
seemed so impossible to associate with the scale on which
he knew that Osman Girling worked, the necessity for
his adopting these strange means to direct the Stromberg
order into one particular channel. Besides, if, as would
now appear, he were connected with Millers' in some
way, and Frasers' drew their commission twice over,
where were the other side'going to get their profit from ?
However, he must say something.

" May I ask if you or Sir Donald Hammersmith are
acting on behalf of this firm ? " he enquired.

Mr. Girling permitted himself an impatient movement
with his head.

" No, no," he answered. " I have already said that
our names mustn't come into this at all ; not at any
stage."

" It is such an unusual suggestion," Bill continued,
still hoping that if he gave himself time, he might see
what the point of the whole thing was. " Would there
be any objection to your telling me why you want the
order to go to these particular people ? "

" I'm afraid there would be," said Mr. Girling, with
a kind of grim finality. " Now, Mr. Fraser, this is a
straightforward business proposition, and one which,
as it seems to me, is very much to your advantage. If
you look at it like that, I am sure you will see that there
is every reason why you should do as we suggest." He
closed his hand suddenly over the pencil-case, and fixed
his visitor with a piercing, if slightly bilious eye.

Now " straightforward " was the very last word
which it would have occurred to Bill to apply to this
proposal ; and if, as Mr. Girling said, the advantages
in it were obvious, there was on the other hand a general
air of disadvantage about the mystery and secrecy at
the back of it all which was far from attractive.

" There's another pretty serious objection," he replied.
" As you know so much about my business, you probably
also know that my partner is up in the Midlands at this

160 BILL THE BACHELOR

very moment, making arrangements to place this order
with firms whom we know. How can I tell that the
whole thing isn't already fixed up ? "

" You can be quite certain of that," put in Sir Donald
from his post by the fireplace.

Oh, he could, could he ? George had undoubtedly
been right about the general queerness of things at
Leicester, but Bill could still see no kind of meaning
behind it all, and until he did, he was dashed if he was
going on with it. Osman Girling's reputation would
not for one second support the theory that he was
making this proposal for any one's advantage but his
own. "Perhaps," thought Bill, "if I refuse, he'll
come out in the open. Anj^how, I'm certainly not going
to accept unless he does."

He rose to his feet.

" I'm very sorry, Mr. Girling," he said, " but if you
want a definite answer to-day, then I'm afraid I must
refuse. It's very good of you, I'm sure, to interest
yourself in my affairs, but I should prefer to stick to
the ordinary lines of business, if it is possible to
do so."

Sir Donald had opened his mouth to speak, but Mr.
Girling checked him with a movement of his hand.

" The matter is urgent, Mr. Eraser," he said ; " but
urgency is a relative term. To-day is Monday. My
offer will remain open until four o'clock on Wednesday
afternoon. Don't let us say anything final to-day ;
very likely you would prefer to talk it over with your
partner."

He stretched out his hand, and Bill heard the buzzer
ringing in the next room. The audience was over.

This, he realised afterwards, would have been the
moment for him to leave. But though he blamed
himself for it later, we can surely understand how it
was that, instead of this, he embarked on a kind of
halting apology.

" I don't want — I wouldn't wish " he began ; but

Mr. Girling brushed his words aside.

" That's all right, Mr. Eraser," he said. " I never

MR. GIRLING 161

expect other people to make up their minds as quickly
as I do. I'm quite used to it."

Offensive brute !

Bill suddenly found the bald-headed secretary standing
by his side, holding out his hat. Mr. Girling, with his
eyes turned towards heaven, seemed, like the frog-
footman whom he so much resembled, already uncon-
scious of his existence. Sir Donald Hammersmith
was helping himself to another cigar.

"Good afternoon," said Bill shortly, and, without
waiting for them to decide whether they would answer
or not, he took his hat and went straight out, through
the antechamber, into the corridor.

He walked back to Pardon Court and spent the rest
of the afternoon seated at his desk, ruffling his hair,
and entering in turn a thousand and one blind alleys
of profitless conjecture. And each time that he emerged
from one of these, he began wondering again how other-
Avise he could or should have conducted his share in that
amazing interview.

" I give it up," he said finally. " I think I'll walk
home."

Perhaps he had a faint hope that the air on the
Embankment might blow away the mist which seemed
to be piling up thicker and thicker between him and
reality.

S

On the narrow table in his passage-hall there was a
piece of paper, decorated with his housekeeper's hand-
writing.

" Will you please ring up Miss Grahame — May fair
438."

He shouted down the passage.

" Mrs. Whalley ! "

Mrs. Whalley appeared.

" What time did this telephone message come ? "

" I couldn't say the exact time, sir," she answered
in her best witness-box manner.

" Never mind the exact time. Was it this morning or
this afternoon ? "

162 BILL THE* BACHELOR

" It was before lunch, sir."

" And didn't Oh, well, never mind. Thanks

very much."

Of course if the fool of a woman had had any sense,
she would have rung him up at the office at once, instead
of letting him waste all the afternoon like this ; but then,
she never did have any sense. Or was it his own fault
for not confiding in her more ? He left her and dashed
to the telephone.

"Hullo! Is that Mayfair 438? Can I speak to
Miss Grahame, please ? Mr. Eraser. No, Fraser.
Thank you."

Of coutse he'd missed her. Why, it must have been
nearly six hours since she had rung him up, and the
whole of that time she must have been thinking him
ruder and ruder. Old fool, Mrs. Whalley. Somebody's
footsteps. They're going to say she's out.

" Hullo, Bill. Is that you ? "

She was in.

" Hullo," he answered.

" Where on earth have you been all day ? "

" At my office. And I walked home."

" Oh, I see. I didn't dare ring you up there."

How unlike Wog.

" But you must always ring me up there," said Bill.
" Promise me you will."

He must have overdone it, for^she laughed.

" Look here, Bill. Are you doing anything to-
night ? "

" No, nothing. Absolutely nothing.^ Nothing at
all."

" Well, look here. Can you dine here at a quarter
past eight and take me to the Stewarts' dance ? I've
promised to bring some one, so you must."

In this life one doesn't often get a second chance, but
his detestable conscience answered before he could stop
it.

" I can't dance, you know," it said. " At least, not
in the way that people do it in these days."

*' That doesn't matter a bit. I don't suppose there'll

MR. GIRLING 163

be any room to dance really. You will come, won't
you ? "

" Rather. Thanks most awfully ; of course I will."

" A quarter past eight, then ? "

" Yes, rather. I say, how awfully "

But she had gone.

And now to Hell with Fraser and Company, and
Lemaitre, and Stromberg, and Ledburys', and Osman
Girling, and the whole collection of worries and troubles.
He was going to spend the evening with Leslie. What,
suddenly, did anything else in the world matter ?
" Mrs. Whalley ! I'm dining out. Yes, dining out."
What fun it all was 1 Now where were his white waist-
coats ?

And gloves ? Did people still wear gloves ? Better
take a pair in his pocket in case they did. He flew into
his bedroom and began searching at the backs of all the
drawers. Yes ; his luck had turned at last. Here was
a pair of real, pre-war, white gloves. An actual pair ;
and with buttons on them too.

Gradually the unusual spectacle of Alexander Fraser,
Esquire, in his full dress clothes began to take form and
substance out of a chaos of shirts and socks and hair-
brushes, and by a quarter to eight the xasion was com-
plete. He had even unearthed from an old portmanteau
in the dark cupboard outside Mrs. Whalley's room, a
genuine, collapsible opera-hat. Either his head had
swollen or this hat had contracted since he had last had
it on some time in 1913 or 14, and it became clear that
if he were going to wear it at all seriously, he would
probably bear the marks for some days. But he would
be going about in taxis and motors all the evening, and
it would do quite well if he carried it carelessly in one
hand.

Now, then ; from the flat to Brook Street in a cab ;
say five minutes — well, say ten minutes, then. By
Jove, he hoped she meant that about his not having
to dance.

Yet there must have been something wrong about his
calculations, for the taxi set him down outside Lord

164 BILL THE BACHELOR

Longwood's house when his watch told him that it was
still only six minutes past eight. He'd better walk
about for a bit. It was a pity that he couldn't put that
hat on, but still, it was a warm evening and it couldn't
be helped. He walked to within a few yards of the
corner of Bond Street, and then came back again, very
slowly. Only ten minutes past still. The worst of it
was that he had already had to decline offers of services
from seven taxi-drivers, and if he went on tempting them
much longer, it might lead to difficulties. So he waited
on the doorstep for another two minutes, hoping that
he was not being observed all the time in the little
mirror which was fastened to one of the basement
windows, and at last, at twelve minutes and thirty-five ■
seconds past the hour, he rang the bell.

The door opened immediately, and he had an uneasy
feeling that the footman had been watching him through
the letter-box. Never mind, he was in the house at
last. He was disrobed and handed over to the butler,
who allowed himself a faint smile of condescending
recognition, and then preceded him up the stairs.
Yards and yards of stairs, with the curious low treads
which one finds in rich people's houses. He was shown
into a vast drawing-room. " Miss Grahame will be
down in a few minutes, sir." " Thank you." The
butler executed a brief fantasia on the electric switches
by the door, the general effect of which was to leave the
lighting pretty much as it was, and withdrew. Bill
finds that he daren't sit down, even if he wanted to, so
he walks about, inspecting the room.

That picture over the mantelpiece must be Leslie's
mother. He didn't remember her, of course, for she had
died when he was only six ; but she must have been
rather a beauty too. But not a patch on Leslie. And
here, on the opposite wall, is old Andrew Grahame.
But from this portrait Bill turns away quickly ; the
artist has caught that terrifying expression much too
well for his comfort. There is some music scattered
over the top of the piano. Mozart, Hoist and a song
called " Zim-zam Blues." Leslie's taste, if this is

MR. GIRLING 16U

Leslie's taste, seems as catholic as his own. He suddenly
wondered what kind of music Mr. Girling played. No,
he didn't ; he wouldn't think about Mr. Girling.

Some one was coming down the stairs now. Bill's
fingers dashed to a final adjustment of his tie, but
his hands seemed to have passed out of his control.
Why

" Is that you, Bill ? "

She had come into the room. They were shaking
hands. My word ! She's lovelier than ever.

"It's terribly good of you to have come. I hope you
won't hate it."

Good ? Hate it ? Bill heard himself mumbling
something about something being ripping.

" I ought really to have waited for you to call."

" But I did call. At least, I tried to call yesterday
but the house was shut up."

" Did you ? I only came back this morning, and
Papa and Mr. Harvey have gone off to Leicester, so I'm
afraid we shall be alone."

Was everyone in the world at Leicester, then ? Bill's
determination to forget about his business underwent a
severe strain. But what did it matter where the others
were, as long as they weren't here ? He mumbled
something further on the lines of his previous mumble.

" Do you know the Stewarts ? " Leslie was asking.

" No, I'm afraid not."

" They live in Grosvenor Street, so we shan't have
far to go."

Dash the Stewarts ! They might have lived a bit
further off.

" Did you mean that about my not having to dance ? "
he was just beginning to ask ; but he was interrupted by
the return of the butler, and they went down to the
dining-room.

The little round table with its four lighted candles
seemed set in a circle of impenetrable gloom. Leslie
and Bill took their places at right angles to one another,
and the dinner began. Menservants emerged at intervals
from the outer darkness, removing and replacing various

166 BILL THE BACHELOR

dishes, but Bill had no idea what he was eating and
scarcely any idea what he was saying. Those good
resolutions taken in his bedroom at Hare Hall seemed
blown to the winds, and Leslie by candle light was all
the food and drink that he wanted.

And to think that some great hulking brute with
twenty-thousand a year would some day have the ex-
quisite bliss of dining like this any evening that he chose.
The thought nearly made him choke. Yet what could
he do to stop it ? She might know the fellow already,
or, more horrible idea still, she might be going to meet
him at this dance to-night for the first time. In an
hour, at the outside, they would be in a crowded room
full of strangers ; a few more, and this one evening would
be over for ever. Oh, damn money, by all means ;
but damn time still more.

" About this dance," Bill resumed, as he followed
his hostess into the drawing-room again ; " you do
understand that I can't do it, don't you ? "

" Can't do what ? "

" Dance."

" Of course you can."

There you are. He knew it. She had lured him here
(not that he wasn't only too ready to be lured) by telling
him that it didn't matter whether he could dance or
not, and already she had changed her ground, and was
telling him that he could, and (inferentially) must.

" But I haven't been to a dance since programmes
went out," he protested. " In my dancing days we
used to do the lancers still. And we'd never even heard
of a saxophone."

Leslie turned on him impatiently.

" Why will you always talk as if you were fifty ? " she
said. " Don't you see how rude it is, considering that
we were brought up together ? No, I want to talk to
you seriously ; I've been thinking about it a lot since I
saw you. Why must you go out of your way to be so
middle-aged ? "

"Middle-aged! Me? Why, I'm only twenty-nine, "Bill
expostulated. " What's more, I'm only just twenty-nine."

MR. GIRLING 167

" I know that," said Leslie. " Then why not be it ? "

" But what's wrong with me ? I'm not fat. I'm not
even bald."

" You're worse than that," she said.

" Impossible."

" Yes, you are. You're self-satisfied."

This was too much.

" I swear before heaven," said Bill, " that a more
horribly unjust statement has never been made. If
you only knew. If you only knew."

" Very well. We'll withdraw ' self-satisfied.' But
you're — oh, I don't know. But why don't you dance ?
Why do you go on spending all your life in that silly
little office ? Why couldn't you come and see me until
I took the trouble to write to you ? I know you
wasted five years in the army. All right ; so did a lot
of other people. But why sit down under it ? You
haven't lost those years really, unless you keep on telling
yourself you've lost them."

So much criticism, whether true or false, could, it
seemed to Bill, never before have been crowded into a
minute. He was as breathless as Leslie by the time
she had finished.

" But — but — I can't help it about the dancing," he
gasped. " Lots of fellows don't dance. And how
could I tell that you wanted me to come and see you,
and "

" I didn't," Leslie interrupted.

" No, no, of course not. And as for my silly little
office, yes, you're quite right. But I'm going to change
all that. I'm doing all sorts of things now. We're
lashing out, George Lucas and I are, in all kinds of
directions. You see if we aren't."

In the intoxication of Leslie's presence, this seemed
a perfectly fair way of describing what had a few hours
ago looked much more like a series of chuckle-headed
blunders. And it went down so well, too.

" Are you really ? " said Leslie, with her eyes shining.
*' Oh, I am glad. I withdraw everything. I've mis-
understood you — I've been terribly unfair. You must

168 BILL THE BACHELOR

forgive me, I — I know what I'll do. I'll teach you to
dance."

" What, now ? "

" Yes. Come on. We'll turn on the gramophone."

She flew into a dark corner of the room and began
winding furiously at the handle of a big cabinet machine.
" Turn on the top left-hand switch by the door," she
ordered, and in response to Bill's efforts the big, cut-
glass pendant in the middle of the ceiling burst into a
flood of light.

" Now, then," said Leslie. " This is a fox-trot.
Listen first; I want you to get the rhythm." She stood
in front of the monstrous cabinet, emphasising the time
with one gently-moving finger, and looking, to Bill,
like — well, like Leslie. Comparisons seemed suddenly
so ineffective.

" Have you got it ? " she asked presently.

Bill had no idea what it was that he was supposed to
have got, but he nodded.

" Come on, then," said Leslie.

And to his astonishment, indeed to his utter stupe-
faction, he actually found himself dancing. And not
only dancing, but enjoying it.

" That's splendid," said his hostess. " Wait a minute,
I'll start the record again. Now. then. Like this."

And they did it again.

" What do you mean by telling me you couldn't
dance ? " Leslie asked.

" But it's so much easier than it looks. Is that all ? "

" No, not nearly all. We're only just beginning.
Now watch my feet."

And so the lesson went on. Every few minutes one
or the other had to dash to the gramophone and either
wind it up, or put in a fresh needle, or change the
record. Bill hadn't taken so much exercise immediately
after dinner for years, but he was enjoying himself
tremendously. It came into his mind that a certain
feeling of contempt which he had hitherto had for
dancing men had after all been a very silly kind of
prejudice. If it were always like this, no wonder they

MR. GIRLING 16©

did it. But he was to discover during the evening that
it was far from being always like this.

" Now we'll have He tried to call me baby, " said
Leslie presently, picking up a fresh record.

" Is that the name of the dance or the name of the
tune ? " asked Bill.

" The tune, idiot."

But it had hardly started when he called out :

" I know that tune."

" You know it ? "

" Yes, it's the tune you sang in the garden at Hare
Hall. Don't you remember asking me what its name
was ? "

" Of course. So I did. I asked Mr. Harvey after-
wards, and he got me the record."

Oh, he did, did he ? Dash Mr. Harvey's eyes 1
Was there no limit to his efficiency, then ?

" It's got awfully good words," Leslie added. " He
got me the music too."

" Oh."

" Yes."

She began to sing the awfully good words. If I were
to set them down in cold blood — and I could if I chose —
they would doubtless appear the extreme and most
exaggerated limit of inanity and bad grammar. It
would be useless either to deny, in cold blood, that what
slight meaning they possessed was both vulgar and
unpleasing. But, at the time, Bill found nothing to
criticise. How could he, with Leslie looking like that ?

" Now, then," she called out. " Chorus ! "

He found himself trying to sing with her.

" He tried to call me baby.
He "

But no. I'm not going to quote those words. In the
chill severity of print they would inevitably convey the
wrong kind of suggestion. And in any case Bill had
scarcely got more than halfway through them, when he
suddenly saw the butler standing in the doorway. So
did Leslie, and their song ceased.

170 BILL THE BACHELOR

*' The car is here, miss," he was saying.

" The car ? Good heavens, what's the time ? "

The butler consulted his watch.

" Five minutes past ten, miss."

" And I promised to be early. How awful I Bill, go
and get your things at once. I've a strange feeling that
my hair's coming down, but I'll be with you in a minute.
Slater, be an angel and put the records away — I must

fly-".

Bill left Slater being an angel, and went down into
the hall, where he helped himself into his coat. His
fear of the unknown party was returning now that he
found himself alone, but he fought hard against it,
seeking courage of a sort by humming He tried to call
me baby. In a surprisingly short time Leslie, wearing
a red cloak, re-appeared at the head of the stairs.

" Hold these a minute," she said, as she reached the
hall ; and she handed Bill a pair of long gloves and a
chain bag. " I think my shoe's coming off now." She
put her foot on a chair to execute the necessary adjust-
ment.

This, Bill was thinking, was how Leslie and that other
infernal fellow would go out in the evenings. Perhaps
he would get tired of holding her bag. Yes, he would
probably be the kind of brute who always complained
of being kept waiting. A malevolent look passed across
that usually kindly countenance.

" If you'll promise to wait and walk home with me,"
said Leslie, as the car moved off, " I'll tell Bradley not
to come back. He'll hate me like poison, if I keep him
out of bed for a drive like this."

Such an attitude of mind seemed to Bill inconceivable
in Bradley or anyone else, but of course he promised
to see her home, and in another moment they had
arrived outside the Stewarts' house. Bradley jumped
down, ran round the back of the car, and opened the
door.

The next incident took Bill completely by surprise.
For hardly had he crossed the strip of carpet and entered
the hall of the house, than a cluster of insufferable young

MR. GIRLING 171

men, all of whose dress coats fitted them, in his opinion,
a great deal better than any gentleman's coat ought to
fit him, seemed to spring from every direction and sur-
round his companion. As far as he could make out,
they all called her " Leslie " and all claimed any number
of dances from three upwards. Seldom had he disliked
a collection of his fellow-creatures more.

But, in view of this demonstration, could it really
be true that she had had to fall back on him as her only
available escort ? A cad's query ; he tried, and almost
managed to drive it out of his mind, but traces remained
for the rest of the evening to puzzle and worry him, to
lift him up at one moment and dash him down again at
the next.

But for his undertaking to see Leslie home, it is
doubtful if Bill would have stayed very long at the
Stewarts' dance. For in the first place, since he knew
nobody, he was naturally seized on by Mrs. Stewart,
or possibly Lady Stewart, as fair prey for her less
attractive guests. And in the second place, even with
these unfortunates he was conscious that he was not
going down as well as might be hoped. His dancing,
which had seemed so skilful and effective in the drawing-
room at Brook Street, went all to pieces when put to
this fresh test. Time and again his unmanageable
partners besought him to get them an ice, or became
overcome with sudden and suspicious fatigue ; and few
of them put in a second appearance when he fought his
way to his* assignations with them outside the drawing-
room door. It is true that one fat girl, with unnaturally
red arms, did actually survive three rounds, but he
couldn't help feeling that she must be a little weak in
the head ; her conversation certainly suggested this.
More and more he was driven to walking about the
ground floor, trying to pretend that he was looking for
some one, or killing time by long-drawn-out dealings
with a cigarette and a box of matches.

But t\vice he was snatched up by Leslie into the
clouds, and each time it was more than clear that she
had cut somebody else's dance to come to his assistance,

1T2 BILL THE BACHELOR

for they performed to an accompaniment of scowls and
protests from his disappointed rivals.

" But it's your fault, Bill," she said, as they made
their way round the room the second time. " Why
didn't you ask me to dance with you ? "

" I was going to," he protested. " I was really ;
but all those other fellows got in first."

" You shouldn't have let them," she answered.
•' You ought to have asked me in the car."

" Ought I ? "

" Listen to him," said Leslie.

" I'll know what to do next time," he suggested ; but
she only laughed, and began to sing.

" When may I have another ? " he persisted.

" There won't be any more," she said, smiling at some
one else as she spoke. " We're going home in three
from now."

" Oh."

But they didn't. At the end of the next three dances
Bill emerged from the retreat which he had discovered
at the back of the hall, and sought for her in vain ;
and when the music began again, he found that she had
escaped him somehow and was dancing with a detestable
fellow with black crimped hair and a stupid little mous-
tache. And after this for hours and hours, as it seemed
to him, he kept on re-appearing like a gloomy ghost
at the beginning of each dance, only to see her dash past
with another partner, and twice out of every three times
with the moustache.

His little stock of ruses for pretending that he was
doing anything but hanging about had long since been
exhausted. Even the waiters no longer troubled to
break off their conversation when his restless wanderings
brought him periodically into the dining-room. More
and more guests took their departure into the night, and
the offensive way in which they all seemed to know one
another accentuated his loneliness to an almost intoler-
able pitch. The unwelcome thought could not be much
longer resisted that Leslie had forgotten all about
him. But he'd see her home, if he had to wait until

MR. GIRLING 178

breakfast, and he grimly lighted himself yet another
cigarette.

And at last, just as he was on the point of falling
asleep on his chair in the hall, she re-appeared in her
red cloak.

" Come along," she said. " We're going home."

Bill started to his feet, and as he did so, became aware
that the man with the crimped hair was hovering behind
her.

" Let me drive you back," he was saying. "I've got
my car just outside."

For a terrible moment Leslie seemed to be weighing
this offer in her mind, and then she said :

" No, thank you. Tommy. Mr. Fraser has promised
to see me home."

Tommy gave Bill a look as though he were some
strange and monstrous animal.

" Oh, all right," he said, and left them.

Bill pulled his hat and coat out of the red-baize rack
without waiting for assistance, and hurried after Leslie
into the street. Though he had achieved a technical
victory over the man with the crimped hair, he had an
unpleasant feeling that he hadn't deserved it, and,
worse than this, that Leslie knew that he hadn't deserved
it.

She said nothing when he joined her, and they walked
to the corner in silence, while he tried to catch a glimpse
of her expression in the light from the street-lamps.

Finally he said :

*' I say, you were a long time."

" Was I ? "

Her tone didn't encourage him to pursue the subject,
but a few steps further on he tried again.

" I say," he said, " I'm — I'm awfully sorry I didn't
—I didn't . . ." .

She didn't help him, and he gave it up.

Then, as they turned the second corner back into Brook
Street, he made one more attempt.

" Did Miss Lorden ever find her sponge ? " he asked.

" Her sponge ? " repeated Leslie, stopping dead.

174 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Yes. She rang me up about it." He repeated
Wog's story of her loss.

" Wog's mad," said Leslie when he had finished, and
she moved on again.

" Did she tell you anything else ? " she asked, as they
reached her doorstep.

" No," said Bill. " Nothing else. She said she was
going to tell me something, but she seemed annoyed
because I hadn't recognised her voice. So she
didn't."

" Oh," said Leslie. Then she held out her hand.
" Good-night," she added. " Thank you very much for
looking after me."

" But I've enjoyed it most tremendously. Oh,
Leslie, I'm — I didn't mean — I mean — I wish — I . . ."

She waited patiently, looking more beautiful and more
unapproachable than ever, but he gave it up. Whatever
he had been going to say, he couldn't finish it.

" It's all right. Bill," she said, when his last disjointed
sounds had died away. " And you can put your hat
on," she added.

" But I can't," said Bill, in a wretched, sulky voice,
" It doesn't fit." He gave a brief demonstration.

And all at once she was the Leslie that she had been
before they had started for that ill-omened party. A
peal of laughter came from her lovely throat.

" My poor Bill," she said ; " there never was anyone
like you, and I don't suppose there ever will be."

And slipping her latchkey into the door, she dis-
appeared inside the dimly-lighted hall.

For five minutes Bill remained staring fixedly in the
direction of the knocker. And then faint murmurs
might have been heard proceeding from him.

The first murmur took the form of an old-fashioned,
florid, British swear-word, uttered, however, without
a trace of the emphasis which one might reasonably
expect to find associated with it.

Then he said :

" I'm afraid there's no mistake."

Then he said :

MR. GIRLING 175

" I suppose I oughtn't to have come this evening,
really."

Then he said :

" Hell. This is worse than people make out."

And then, slowly at first, but with gathering speed,
he began walking back towards his flat, occupied all
the time in a silent dialogue with some disembodied
spirit which seemed to have taken temporary possession
of one half of his mind.

" But how do you know that she isn't engaged, or as
good as engaged to some one else ? " asked this imper-
tinent disputant, as they reached the corner of Berkeley
Square.

" I wish you'd keep your remarks to yourself," said
Bill.

" Of course," said the spirit, quite undisturbed by this
rebuff, " you would wait till you're nearly thirty and on
the verge of insolvency, and then go and choose a
millionaire's daughter."

Bill tried to look the other way. A difficult thing to
do when yt)U are being addressed from inside your own
head.

" If you really want my advice " began the spirit.

" I don't," snapped Bill. " What is it ? "

" You'll wait a bit and see what happens."

" Do you call that advice ? " asked Bill coldly.

" Well, perhaps not. But let me ask you something."

" Well ? "

" Are you happy ? "

" I don't know."

" Are you excited ? "

" Yes. Tremendously."

" Well, what more do you want ? "

" What more do I My dear sir, must I begin

explaining all over again ? "

" I'd rather you didn't."

" Oh, very well, then," said Bill disgustedly. " Now
supposing you clear out."

But the spirit was not so easily exorcised as all this.
It sat on the end of his bed all night and made more

176 BILL THE BACHELOR

unhelpful, uninspiring and platitudinous remarks than
any spirit has ever made.
And it would not let him go to sleep.

When Bill returned to the office after lunch the next
dav, he was surprised to find George waiting for him.

'' Hullo," he said. " When did you get back ? "

" Came up this morning," said George. " I say, you're
looking pretty cheap. What's the matter with you ? "

" Nothing. What's the news from Leicester and
Nottingham ? "

" I haven't been to Nottingham," said George ;
" and the news from Leicester is so dashed odd, that I
thought I'd better come back and see you."

" Why, what's happened ? "

" What hasn't ? " answered George. " I've seen
Ledburys' three times. On Friday they as good as
booked the order, and were going to give us all the credit
we wanted. On Saturday they began hedging and said
they wanted time to think it over. That was when I
rang you up. Then I went back yesterday afternoon,
and after beating about the bush for a bit, the old man
said he was very sorry but his machines were full, and I
must take the business somewhere else. That," George
added reflectively, " was an infernal lie."

" What time did you see them yesterday ? " asked Bill.

" Late-ish. About six I should think. Why ? "

Plenty of time for Mr. Girling to have given his
instructions, if indeed this were the explanation.

"I'll tell you in a minute," said Bill. " There've
been some odd things going on in London too. First
of all, look at this." He produced M. Kessler's letter.

" Well," said George. " That's all right, I suppose ;
isn't it ? "

" I suppose so. I was rather hoping to hear from him
again to-day, but still, as you say, I expect it's all right."

" Of course it is," said George.

" Well, then, what do you make of this ? " And this
time Bill handed over the note from Osman Girling.

MR. GIRLING 177

George gasped.

" Good Lord ! " he said. " What next ? "

" That's how it struck me," answered Bill.

" Did you go ? "

" Yes."

" Well, what was it ? "

Bill told him. " I'd no idea where you were," he
concluded, " or of course I'd have written all this to
you last night."

*' That's all right," said George, and he got up and
began pacing up and down the room.

"This Sir Donald What's-his-name," he added
presently ; " what sort of a brute was he to look at ? "

" Tall," said Bill. " Grey hair. Overdressed."

" That's him," said George. " He was in the room
all the time; I was talking to old Ledbury on Saturday
morning. Ledbury introduced him as one of his
directors, but I never caught his name."

*' Well, I may be wrong," ventured Bill, " but it
seems a bit funny that one of Ledburys' directors should
try and bribe me to place a big order with somebody
else."

" Dashed funny," said George.

" And I'll tell you another funny thing," he added,
after a moment's thought. " I heard this quite by
chance from a man I was talking to at the hotel. Peter
Miller's have been feeling a bit rocky lately. Of course
with their name and reputation they'll probably pull
round without much trouble ; but all the same, if what
this fellow told me was true, they'd be the last people
to want to stand out of their money just at present.
What do you make of that ? "

Bill cudgelled his exhausted brains.

" Nothing," he answered at length. " But I don't
Uke it."

" And I don't like it either. I'm glad you told old
Girling what you did. Hang it, we may be in a bit of
a hole ; I don't say we're not ; but if he thinks he can
butt in and make us place our orders wherever he chooses,
then all I can say is that he's jolly well wrong. There
U

178 BILL THE BACHELOR

are lots of other manufacturers besides Ledbury and
Miller. But I must say, I wish old Kessler would buck
up' and come over. If we've got to take that show over
inside a month, we shall want to go into things with him
pretty thoroughly."

Bill recalled his wandering thoughts.

" Perhaps they'd know something at their London
office," he said. " It's quite possible that Kessler has
told them more than he's told us."

" That's an idea," George conceded. " Let's ring
'em up."

He reached for the telephone while Bill hunted up the
number, but ten minutes later they were compelled to
accept the operator's statement that there was no
reply.

" They've got a small staff here, I know," said George.
"It's quite likely that they shut the place up in the
afternoons, when there's nothing much doing."

" Oh, quite," answered Bill.

But he wondered if it were.

" About this grey-haired blighter," said George sud-
denly ; "I suppose you've looked up his record. Did
you find anything ? "

" Yes, here he is," said Bill, and he opened the office
Who's Who, where he had turned down the corner of a
page.

" H'm," murmured George, glancing through the
paragraph. " This doesn't tell one much. Ex-manager
of something I can't pronounce in South America, and
Director of Blanket Supplies in the Ministry of Munitions
for the last two years of the war. What I want to know
is what he's doing now."

" I can tell you one other thing about him," said Bill,
looking up from a second red-covered work of reference.
" He wasn't a director of Ledburys' when this book
went to press. In fact he wasn't a director of anything."

" Well, he's not going to become a director of me,"
answered George, with some violence. " And that's
flat. Now, then, let's have a look at^this correspondence
with the bank."

MR. GIRLING 179

Messrs. Fraser and Company's office hours, so far as
the two partners were concerned, generally drew to a
close in the neighbourhood of half-past five, and two or
three evenings in most weeks in the year Bill and George
would walk part of the way out from the City together,
separating at different points on the route according to
the nature of their varying destinations. On this par-
ticular afternoon, Bill, having finished his work for the
day, went as he often did, and looked into his partner's
room to ascertain his plans for going home. George
had his hat on and bore every appearance of being about
to leave, but seeing Bill, he suddenly took it off again.

" I've just remembered a letter I must write," he said.
" I'm afraid I shall be some time."

" That's all right," answered Bill. " I'll wait."

He sat down in the visitors' chair, while George went
through a protracted pantomime of a man hunting for
writing-paper. A realistic and painstaking perform-
ance it was too, but it was marred by one thing.

" If you're looking for notepaper," said Bill, " you'll
find some in the rack in front of you."

George started with surprise.

" Why, so it is," he said. " Thanks very much, old
man. Of course."

He selected a piece with the utmost deliberation, and
then began fiddling in one of his drawers. Presently he
emerged with a box of nibs, a pen-knife and a broken
pencil. From these unusual materials he appeared to
contemplate manufacturing a pen. Bill watched his
awkward efforts for some time, and then at last he said :

" May I make a suggestion ? "

" Eh ? What's that ? I'm sorry ; I thought you'd
gone. Yes, certainly. What sort of a suggestion ? "

" Well," said Bill. " Why not use your fountain
pen ? "

" My fountain pen ? " George repeated. " Oh, yes.
Of course. I — er . . ." He began slapping his pockets.

"Waistcoat, George," said Bill. "Top left-hand
side."

" Oh, yes,"

180 BILL THE BACHELOR

He pulled it from its sheath and gazed at it much as
one might expect a savage to examine such a piece of
possibly dangerous mechanism.

" George," said Bill, accusingly.

George gave another exaggerated start.

" Hullo ; yes ? " he answered.

" George, your acting might possibly deceive the one
other person in the world who is as ridiculous as you are ;
that is, if it were possible to discover him. But do you
really flatter yourself that it is deceiving me ? "

"My acting?" repeated George, making a last
attempt to brazen it out. " What do you mean ? "

"I'll tell you what I mean," said Bill. " You are
going through all these childish conjuring tricks with
the firm's stationery, because you want to exhaust my
patience and make me leave the office. But the ultimate
intention at the back of your transparent old skull it
is vain to attempt to conceal. Put away your toys,
and we will go round there together."

" Go where ? " said George uneasily.

" Where you were trying to go without me. To the
City office of your friend Lemaitre."

George capitulated at once.

" Oh, all right," he said. " We might as well just
have a look, don't you think ? I mean, it couldn't do
any harm just to drop in."

" Come along, you pitiful hypocrite," said Bill.

George grinned amiably.

" I'm sorry. Bill," he said ; " but it is a bit funny not
having heard from Paris. Don't you agree ? "

" Very laughable," said Bill. " Come along."

The office towards which the partners were now setting
out was not unknown to either of them, since they had
both paid several visits there some years before, while
engaged on the negotiations for Barrett's transfer. It
consisted, as they remembered, of two or three rooms only
in a big commercial rabbit-warren, in the neighbourhood
of East Cheap. But beyond a general recollection that
it had been somewhere upstairs, they found that neither
of them could recall the number or the floor. However,

MR. GIRLING ISl

the obvious thing to do in such circumstances was to
walk into the lift and say " Lemaitre," and this they did.

The attendant had already slammed the gate and was
dashing them aloft, when the sound of this name brought
his machine to a sudden standstill.

" What's the matter ? " asked George.

" Matter ? " repeated the liftman, in a hoarse voice.
" That's what / should like to know. Ho, yuss."

The partners looked at each other nervously, but as
the attendant showed no signs of continuing his pro-
fessional duties by wafting them either upwards or
downwards. Bill asked him :

" Do you mean that the office is closed ? "

" Closed ? " said the liftman, who seemed to have a
turn for these ironical echoes, and whose voice was
certainly very hoarse. " Per'aps. Or per'aps not.
'Ere," he continued, restarting the lift with a jerk which
nearly threw his passengers on the floor. "Come 'ere,
and I'll show you."

He stopped for a second time, opened the gates, and
led the way along a corridor.

" I remember now," murmured George. "It's right
at the end. Round a corner somewhere."

Their guide had stopped.

" There," he said, pointing to a door to which a piece
of paper had been fastened with a drawing-pin. " Read
that ! "

George and Bill drew nearer.

" Notice," they read in typewritten capitals. " This
office will be closed for the remainder of this week.
Please leave letters and parcels with the housekeeper.
L. Thibaud, London Manager."

His own fears and the liftman's mysterious manner
had worked on Bill's feelings to such an extent, that he
had been prepared for something infinitely more alarm-
ing and disastrous than what he now actually saw. And
it looked as though George must have been through
something of the same sort, for he turned to the liftman
and asked him rather shortly why he had brought them
all this way for nothing.

182 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Ah," said the liftman, with an overwhelming air of
wisdom. " I thought you might ask that, gentlemen.
But what I said to myself was, ' Let the gentlemen see
it for themselves, and then they'll believe me.' "

George and Bill exchanged glances, and the glances
being interpreted signified their joint opinion that the
relaxation of the licensing restrictions had not escaped
the liftman's notice. But the liftman was resuming
his discourse.

" Yuss," he said. " There's curious things been going
on 'ere. First they sacks the boy, and then they sacks
the clurk, and then they sacks the lady-typist ; or any-
way, if they didn't sack them, why 'asn't none of them
been 'ere since Friday night ? Per'aps you'll kindly tell
me that ? "

He paused for a moment, but since no alternative
suggestion as to the fate of the staff was forthcoming,
he went on once more.

" Then the manager comes in all by 'imself on Satur-
day, and all by 'imself on Monday, that's yesterday ;
and does 'e say a word to me or the 'ousekeeper down-
stairs about taking charge of 'is letters ? No, gentle-
men, 'e does not. All we finds to-day is this blooming
piece of paper on this blinking door.

" If you was to ask me," he concluded, sinking his
voice still lower, " I should say it was a very funny
circumstance."

He seemed so much pleased with this summing-up of
the general situation, that he repeated, " a very funny
circumstance indeed."

And then his voice ceased, but he remained breathing
loudly and gazing alternately at the two partners.

" Well," said George politely, " you've told it all very
nicely, I'm sure. And now suppose you take us down-
stairs again."

"If I'd said that," thought Bill, "he'd only have
become abusive. I wish George could teach me how
he gets that tone into his voice."

The tone certainly had its effect. For the liftman
conducted them back to the ground floor without another

MR. GIRLING 18S i

word, and only as he opened the grill of his craft did he
mumble :

" No offence, guv'nors, I 'ope."

" Not at all," said George benevolently. " And
perhaps you will do me the favour of accepting this
shilling and buying yourself some throat lozenges."

The lift man stood gaping after them, and it seemed
as though the next time he told his story, it would con-
tain a number of interesting additions.

" Shall we try the housekeeper ? " Bill suggested.

" No," said George. " We don't want to start any
more gossip. Let's get out."

In the street, however, they both stopped.

" Well ? " asked Bill.

" I don't understand it," said George. " I'm going
to telegraph to Paris now, at once."

They moved on to the nearest Post Office.

" Please telegraph immediately when we may expect
you. Delay not understood,''^ was the text of the message
which was finally despatched.

" That ought to fetch something out of them," said
George ; " unless they've all bolted and the whole thing's
gone smash."

Bill laughed nervously.

" Oh, it can't be as bad as all that," he said.

" Eh ? " said George. " No, of course it can't."

" Well, there's nothing more that we can do to-night,"
Bill went on. " I think I shall be getting along. Are
you walking ? "

" No," said George. " I left my bag at the office.
I must take it back in a taxi. See you in the morning."

" Right you are."

And they separated.

We may imagine another wakeful night up under the
mansard roof of Regency House ; a night in which a
pattern of figures wove itself in and out of a background
of dance music, and in which a phantom George, a
phantom Osman Girling and sometimes, but only too

184 BILL THE BACHELOR

seldom, a phantom Leslie pursued each other through
snatches of uncomfortable dreams. If Bill had looked
cheap on the Tuesday morning, he looked as though
he ought to be given away on the Wednesday.

At half-past nine he was back at Pardon Court,
where George arrived less than five minutes later. George
wasn't looking particularly expensive this morning either.

Though there was very little hope of getting an answer
to their telegram as early as this, they had both hoped
to find a letter. But there was nothing.

" The infernal thing is," said George, " that Strom-
berg's been gone nearly a week now, and yet I daren't
leave London again until this other business is cleared
up."

Bill muttered something about its never raining with-
out its also pouring.

" Yes," said George, " and misfortunes never come
singly, I suppose you mean."

" No, I don't," answered Bill irritably. " But there's
another one about a watched pot never boiling. I'm
going to try and do some work."

" I suppose you mean by that " George was be-
ginning in a no less irritable tone of voice, when there
was a knock at the door, and the boy came in with a

" What's that ? " Bill snapped.

" For Mr. Lucas, sir," said the boy.

George snatched it from him.

" Thank the Lord," he said. " Lemaitre at last."
And he tore it open.

Some remnants of discretion made Bill wait until the
boy had slammed himself out, and then he asked :

" What does he say ? "

George was staring in a dazed manner at a piece of
paper which he held in his hand.

" What on earth's the matter ? " asked Bill im-
patiently.

George looked at him blankly.

" I'm jiggered," he announced, and let the paper
and its envelope drop from his hand.

MR. GIRLING 185

" But what Here, give it me."

Bill stooped to pick the paper from the chair on to
which it had fallen.

" Jiggered," said George faintly.

A glance had been enough for Bill.

" But — but what does it mean ? " he asked.

" And damned," added George.

" Is this all there was ? Wasn't there a letter ? "

George shook his head.

" Nothing else," he said.

" Then what — how — I mean . . . ? "

Bill's interrogatory noises died away into silence.
How was one to begin asking questions about anything
as inexplicable as this ? For what he held in his hand
was a promissory note, signed by his partner, under-
taking to pay M. Gustave Lemaitre the sum of approxi-
mately a million francs within one month from the date
of signature. And across the face was written, " Pour
acquit. G. Lemaitre,'''' which in the vulgar tongue is
as much as to say, " Paid in Full."

And this was the office in which he had told himself
less than six weeks ago that nothing ever happened-

He pulled himself together with a great effort.

" But," he said, slowly and carefully, '* you haven't
paid him, have you ? "

" No, of course I haven't," answered George feebly.
" How the devil could I ? "

" Well, who has, then ? "

George shrugged his shoulders.

" Ask me another," he said.

" But look here, George, according to your agreement,
isn't it the case that the payment of this balance would
transfer the business to us at once ? "

" Yes," said George. " That's right."

" There was no fixed date, was there ? "

" No. We had a month to complete the payment,
and of course there was no point in completing it any
sooner. They weren't expecting it. They couldn't
just walk away and leave us to carry on. I mean, the
thing had got to be handed over in the proper way."

186 BILL THE BACHELOR

" That's what I thought," said Bill.

He left it at that, for there was no need to dot any
i's or cross any t's. With this promissory note in their
possession, the Agence Lemaitre was theirs, lock, stock
and barrel ; offices, goodwill, assets and liabilities. Yes ;
and liabilities.

" There's only one thing to do," said George at last.
" I must go back to Paris to-night."

" Yes," said Bill. " And this time I'm coming with
you."

" Unless it's a joke," suggested George.

" A dashed funny kind of joke," said Bill. Colloquial
English inevitably lands one in this kind of statement,
but there was no real doubt about his meaning, and he
could see that George agreed with him.

" I'll send the boy round to the passport office at
once," he added. " I suppose they'll renew my old
one ? "

" Oh, yes. That'll be all right."

Bill put out his hand to press the bell-push, but before
he could do so, there was a second knock at the door,
and the boy had re-appeared.

"Ml". Barrett is here, sir," he said, "and he would
like to see you as soon as possible, please."

" Barrett ? " shouted George and Bill as one man.
" Send him in at once."

They looked at each other in fear and expectation.

" Yes," said George. " Now we're in for it.

It was a Sidney MacGregor Barrett differing very
much from his ordinary self who made his entrance the
next moment. Night crossings do not, of course, as a
general rule tend to serve travellers up looking quite
their best. A certain pallor, often accompanied by a
bristly chin and a disordered toilet, is only to be expected
of those who have just passed through such an experi-
ence. But Barrett's appearance was positively ghastly.
And as he crossed the threshold, it really looked for a
moment as though he might collapse at his former
employers' feet, like the poetical French youth at the
siege of Ratisbon.

MR. GIRLING 1«T

" Here, hold up, man," said George, coming forward
quickly. " Stick him in a chair, Bill, while I get the
office whisky."

But the apparition managed to reach a chair without
assistance. In another second George had come plung-
ing back with a bottle and a glass.

" Take a swig at this, old chap," he said, pouring out
half a tumbler of neat spirits.

The ex-office-boy obeyed. At least perhaps he hardly
took enough to be described as a swig, for he set the glass
down again almost at once.

" I'm sorry, sir," he said. " I'm afraid I didn't

have very much breakfast, I " His eye suddenly

fell on the document whose discussion his arrival had
interrupted. " Ah, I see you've got it," he added.

" That's all right. Take your time," said George, in
the voice in which policemen address fallen cart-horses.

" I'm quite right again, sir. Really I am."

" Are you certain ? " asked George doubtfully.

" Yes, sir. I'm very sorry, I'm sure, but really . . ."
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

" Mr. Lemaitre's bolted," he suddenly added.

" What ? " exclaimed Bill.

" Yes, sir. I don't know what you'll think of me ;
I'm sure I don't. But of course I'd no idea. I don't
like to think what I've let you in for."

" But where's he gone ? When did this happen ? "
asked George and Bill together.

" Yesterday, sir. I'm afraid he'd been plamiing it
all the time. To think of the way we've all been took

in. My word, if I could only but it's no good talking.

He bolted yesterday, with Madame Kessler."

" What, the manager's wife ? " asked George.

" Yes, sir. He and Mr. Kessler had an awful bust-up
in the office. And he shot him."

" Who shot which ? " said BiU. " I don't follow
you."

" Mr. Lemaitre shot Mr. Kessler, sir."

" But is he dead ? "

" No, sir. But he's pretty bad, I'm afraid."

188 BILL THE BACHELOR

" But what about Madame Lemaitre ? " asked George.
" Has anybody shot her ? "

" No, sir," said Barrett. " But all that talk of taking
her abroad was just dust in our eyes. He was planning
the whole thing so as to get away with the other lady,
sir. He'd have done it comfortably on the money,
what's more. But Mr. Kessler, he found something
out, and so the whole thing blew up."

" But he'll never get away," said George.

" I don't know, I'm sure, sir. But if he gets over the
frontier, I expect that's the last we shall hear of him."

" But this note of mine," George went on. " How
does that come into it ? "

" He must have done that when he saw he'd got to
bolt," said Barrett. " Anyhow, he told Mr. Kessler
that he'd done it while they were having their row,
and Mr. Kessler, he told me when I saw him in the
hospital. It was he who said I'd better come over and
see you at once, but of course I should have done that
anyhow."

" But why didn't you come before ? " asked Bill.
" We were expecting you and Kessler on Monday."

" I know, sir. But it was the old man — beg pardon,
Mr. Lemaitre, who stopped us coming. He told Mr.
Kessler some cock and bull story and made him write
putting you off."

" I wonder why," said Bill. " I should have thought
he'd have been glad to have you out of the way."

" He had a very good reason, sir," said Barrett.
" He was holding up a big draft that should have gone
to the London office. Mr. Thibaud, that's the London
manager, he couldn't make out what was wrong, so he
closed the office and came over to find out. I saw him
last night, just before I started."

" Oh," said George. " So Lemaitre has gone off with
that money as well, has he ? "
" I'm afraid so, sir."

" And I suppose this affair is all over Paris by now ? "
" About the shooting, sir ? "
" About the whole business."

MR. GIRLING 189

" Well, sir, I expect the French newspapers are pretty
full of the police side of the thing. You know, sir,
there's nothing they like so much as this kind of stor)^
and there wasn't much chance of keeping it dark. But
as for the business side, I don't suppose the trouble
will start — at least not properly — for a day or two.
It rather depends on you and Mr. Fraser, sir, and what
you decide to do."

Bill took up the examination.

" Did Lemaitre go off with anjrthing except Mr.
Lucas's cheque and that draft for the London branch ? "
he asked.

" Not that I could trace, sir."

" And the draft was ? "

" Two hundred and twenty-five thousand francs, sir."

" And who's in charge at the Rue d'Uz^s now ? "

" Mr. Thibaud, sir. He'll keep in touch with Mr.
Kessler as much as the doctors let him, but I shall be
going back to-night. The police wanted to hold me
for the enquiry, and I'm only here on parole, in a manner
of speaking."

" I see," said Bill.

He looked at George, and George looked at him. They
were clearly agreed on the most immediate steps to be
taken.

" Well, Barrett," he went on, " it's like what I know
of you to come over here and try to help us yourself,
and we're pretty much obliged, as you can guess. Now,
if I were you, I'd go out and get a shave and a good meal,
and then if you'll come back here, we'll go into the whole
thing as well as we can. Are you all right for money ? "

" Oh, yes, thank you, sir. Is there anything I can do
for you while I'm out ? "

" No, thanks," said George. " Except keep your
mouth shut."

" Les oreilles ennemies vous ecoutent ? " suggested the
surprising Barrett.

" I hope not," said George. " But you've got the
right idea. We'll see you later, then."

And Barrett took up his hat, and withdrew.

190 BILL THE BACHELOR

6

" And now perhaps you'll tell me," said Bill, '* whether
this business, or what's left of it, is ours or not."

" What do you mean ? "

" Well, if I tore up this I.O.U. of yours, and swore it
had never reached us. What then ? "

" Don't do that," said George hastily.

" All right. I'm not going to do it really. I'm only
asking you how we should stand, if I did."

George settled his spectacles.

" Of course, I'm not a lawyer " he began.

"Thanks," said Bill. "That will do. In other
words, you mean that you've no more idea than
I have."

" Well, it isn't torn up," George protested, " and it
has reached us. Can't we talk about things as they
are ? "

" I'd love to," said Bill. " Especially if you'll tell
me what you mean by ' as they are.' "

" Well," said George slowly. " We can't sue old
Lemaitre for misrepresentation or whatever it's called ;
because in the first place we don't know where he is,
and in the second place I don't believe there was any.
If his plans had gone through all right, he'd have got
twelve hundred thousand francs, and we'd have got a
jolly fine business ; and then, as far as we were con-
cerned, he could have run away with all the women in
France."

" I quite agree," said Bill. " But[;his plans didn't
go through all right."

" No," said George. " I wish they had."

" Well, I'm glad you're not in charge of public morals ;
that's all I can say. Now perhaps you'll tell me some-
thing else. This money that he's kept back from the
London branch, has he stolen it from us or stolen it
from himself ? "

George frowned at his boots.

" I wouldn't like to say," he announced at length.
" Strictly speaking, I should imagine that he has stolen
it from his English creditors. But there's one thing I

MR. GIRLING 191

can't help thinking, and that is that we shall have to
make it good."

" I'm inclined to agree with you," said Bill.

There was a pause, while they both took in the attrac-
tions of this new idea.

" Well," resumed Bill at last, " it seems to me that
we've got two courses open to us. We can either sit
tight here, let Lemaitre's business go smash and wait
to be sued by everyone in the world who thinks they've
got a claim against it ; or we can go back to Paris with
Barrett to-night and see if by any chance we can pull
any of the fat out of the fire before it's all frizzled to
bits."

" That's so," said George. .

" And in either case, I should say that we stood a
most extraordinarily jolly good chance of going bankrupt
in two countries at once."

" That is also so," said George.

" But on the whole, I think the second alternative is
a bit more sporting than the first."

" Yes," said George. " And I'll tell you something
else. We were to have bought this agency for twelve
hundred thousand francs, while, as things are, we've
got it for less than a third. Now I call that cheap."

" But my dear old George, what do you suppose the
goodwill of a business is worth where the proprietor has
just shot the manager, and run away with his wife, and
taken between four and five thousand pounds out of
the till ? "

" Oh, they don't think much of that sort of thing on
the continent," said George airily. " And as for the
five thousand pounds, I'm* allowing for that in the
purchase price."

Bill realised that his elastic partner had already
touched the ground and was now bounding up again.

" Of course," he said, " I suppose any ordinary kind
of people would go and see their solicitors at this stage."

George looked a little uncomfortable.

" Yes, but you know all that would happen if we did
that," he said.

192 BILL THE BACHELOR

" What ? "

" They'd waste the first five hours in telHng us what
fools we'd made of ourselves, and then they'd say they
must have a fortnight in which to make up their minds."

" Well, we can't wait a fortnight."

" We can't wait twenty-four hours," said George.
" You can go and see the lawyers if you like, but I'm
going to Paris to-night."

" And," said Bill, very firmly, " you're not going alone
this time."

George's grin made its first re-appearance since his
return from Leicester.

" Another palpable hit," he said.

" But," Bill went on, " there's one other thing that's
got to be done first."

George nodded.

" You mean Girling ? " he asked.

" Yes."

" He's got us in a corner all right now, hasn't he ? "

" Then you agree that we must do what he wants ? "

" I don't like it," said George, " and I'm absolutely
dashed if I can understand it, but we can't let Strom-
berg's order hang over for ever."

" That's just it. And we can't be the first people who
haven't been able to see through Osman Girling. If
he likes to pay us a commission to let him finance us,
I don't see that we can afford to stop him."

" He gave you until four this afternoon, didn't he ? "
asked George.

" Yes. I'd better ring up for an appointment at
once."

" I wonder " George began ; and then he stopped.

" Yes," said Bill. " I've wondered that too. But
remember, I saw him on Monday afternoon, and this
affair in Paris only happened some time yesterday.
Besides, even if he saw it all in a crystal, what's the
connection ? What's the point ? "

George groaned.

" Go on," he said. " Ring the old blighter up."

MR. GIRLING 198

At half-past three, therefore, in accordance with the
bald-headed secretary's instructions, the partners pre-
sented themselves at Imperial Buildings. Once again
there was a period of waiting in the corridor, followed by
a period of waiting in the antechamber. Once again
the bald-headed secretary battled with a tornado of
correspondence amidst a hail of telephone calls. And
then, at last, though not until nearly five minutes to
four, the buzzer sounded and he rose to open the inner
door.

There was no convincing evidence that Mr. Girling,
whose resemblance to the frog-footman seemed more
marked than ever, had moved so much as a muscle
during the forty-eight hours since we last saw him.
Somebody, however, must have refilled the kettle and
the spirit lamp, for the one was still steaming and the
other still burning, and again the air was weighed down
with visible roses and invisible cigars. On this occasion,
though, there was no sign of Sir Donald Hammersmith,
for Mr. Girling was alone.

" May I introduce my partner, Mr. Lucas ? " said Bill,
as his host showed no signs of removing his eyes from the
alabaster bowl in the centre of the ceiling.

" Pleased to meet you," said Mr. Girling, bowing
slightly from the sofa. " Will you have some tea ? "

" No, thank you, Mr. Girling," answered George, and
the customary heartiness of his tones seemed to make the
frog-footman wince slightly. At any rate, at this point
he fetched his eyes down from the ceiling.

" Take a seat, gentlemen," he said.

The partners obeyed.

" Hrrrr-um-ha," said Mr. Girling, with great delibera-
tion. " I imagine that this visit is connected with the
proposal which I put before Mr. Fraser on Mondav,
eh ? "

George and Bill bowed.

" You're just in time," said Mr. Girling, glancing at
the clock on the mantelpiece. " That is, if, as I imag-
ine, you have decided to change your minds. Or am
I mistaken ? "

194 BILL THE BACHELOR

Bill opened his mouth to speak, but George got in
first.

" I've been in business a good many years, Mr.
Girling," he said, " and I must say that your proposal
strikes me as a very unusual one ; but, circumstances
being what they are, we are ready to fall in with it.
I am afraid, however, that our acceptance must be sub-
ject to Messrs. Miller being able to give us at least six
months' credit from the date of the delivery of the
goods. And I should also like to hear what commission
you are proposing to pay us for agreeing to this arrange-
ment, and how and when it will be paid."

Mr. Girling picked up his tea-cup and took a delicate
sip.

" This is rather a change from your partner's attitude
the day before yesterday, Mr. Lucas," he said. " Would
it be too much to ask to what it is due ? "

Bill waited to hear in what way George would refer
to Ledburys' extraordinary behaviour, but his answer
took an unexpected form.

" I agree it's a bit of a change," he said ; " but a
good deal has happened since Monday. My partner
and I have got to go off to Paris at once, to look into a
business that we've bought there, and I don't know
how long we shall have to be away. I'll be perfectly
open with you, Mr. Girling, — more so, perhaps, than you
have been with us. We've landed ourselves in a bit of
a mess with this purchase. Now my partner has told
me that you want us to give this order to Millers' in
the ordinary way, and that your name isn't to come
into it at all. That is so, isn't it ? "

" Yes," said Mr. Girling. " That is absolutely essen-
tial."

" Well," continued George, " our friends in Helsingfors
are perfectly safe. There's no fear that they won't
pay up, for we've known them for fifteen or twenty years.
But if things go wrong over this French business, and
at this stage I wouldn't like to say what mightn't
happen, there's a possibility that we, as a firm, may not
be in existence in six months from now. You see, Mr.

MR. GIRLING 195

Girling, if you start dealing with small businesses like
ours, you've got to remember that it doesn't take
very much in these days to knock them right out. If
that happens to us, and we have to go through an
examination, I couldn't undertake to keep your name
out of it, for otherwise what answer could I give when
the receiver asks me, ' Why did you go to this firm of
manufacturers whom you didn't know, and place such a
large order with them, when you knew the state of your
affairs ? Why didn't you follow your general practice
and split the order among your usual people ? ' " v.

What on earth was old George up to now ? This talk
of bankruptcy was enough to make anyone shiver.
Didn't he realise that they wanted Mr. Girling to help
them ; not to frighten him off with this horrible drama-
tisation of a dialogue with the Official Receiver ?

These were Bill's thoughts, but, to be perfectly fair,
Mr. Girling showed no sign of being frightened. As
George floundered along in his loud and argumentative
voice, glaring at him through his spectacles, all he did
was to take from his pocket the familiar gold pencil-
case and begin swinging it dreamily by the ring. And
even when George at last stopped, all he said was :

" But Mr. Fraser said nothing of all this on Monday."

" But the position was quite different then," Bill
protested. " We've only just learnt this morning that
there's trouble in Paris. When I saw you, I knew nothing
about it."

Mr. Girling seemed to let this sink in.

" This business ... in Paris . . . that is in trouble,"
he murmured presently. " May one ask if it is also
connected with the same industry ? "

Bill looked to his partner for guidance, but George
was already answering.

" It was a private firm of importers," he said. " Yes,
they dealt in hosiery."

" British hosiery ? " asked Mr. Girling.

" Yes ; practically entirely."

" Any other goods ? "

" No'. Nothing else."

196 BILL THE BACHELOR

Again Mr. Girling sipped his tea, and stared at the
lamp in the ceiling, and presently he remarked :

" What is said in this room never goes outside. I
think I am entitled to ask a few questions."

And, whether entitled or not, this was what he did ;
that is, if we accept the word " few " in the sense
which Mr. Girling apparently attached to it. For ias a
matter of fact, even George's hypothetical receiver
must have taken a back seat, if Mr. Girling had been
anywhere about. Throughout the next half-hour he
examined and cross-examined the two partners on every
detail of their knowledge of the Agence Lemaitre, on
the manner in which it had come into their possession,
and on the steps which they were proposing to take in
connection with it. No professional lawyer could have
got at the facts in less time or with greater economy of
words. And not a second did he waste in surprise or
criticism either for George's original precipitancy or
for M. Lemaitre's financial and personal morals. What-
ever he was told, he accepted, checked it off, and passed
on to the next question. Time and again Bill asked
himself why he and George were letting themselves be
pumped in this way ; but the answer was obvious.
They couldn't help it. And whether they were enjoying
it or not, it was impossible not to be fascinated by the
quickness and precision with which this extraordinary
man's brain worked.

" Well, gentlemen," said Mr. Girling, when he had
extracted the last drop of information from his defence-
less visitors, " I must thank you for your frankness.
What j'^ou have told me naturally affects my plans to a.
considerable extent. However, I am always as good as
my word. Just as good and no better. That's my
secret." He surprised them with a strange sound which
might have been intended for a chuckle. " I've made
you an offer," he went on, " and I don't withdraw it.
But I would be obliged if you would wait here a few
minutes, while I have a word with my secretary."

" But can't we wait outside while you have him in ? "
suggested Bill.

MR. GIRLING 197

" No," said Mr. Girling, rising from the sofa with
unexpected agility. " Wait here. I'll be back in a
minute." And he moved quickly out of the door,
closing it again behind him.

" Well," said Bill, " there isn't much that he doesn't
know about us now. But I say, what on earth made you
spring all that stuff about us going bankrupt ? I mean
to say, what's that got to do with him ? "

" I don't know," said George. " But people have got
no right to sit there drinking tea at one and looking like
Chinese idols. Perhaps I wanted to make him sit up.
But what does it matter, anyhow ? If I hadn't told
him, he'd have found out if he'd wanted to."

" I suppose he would," said Bill.

" And what's more, I have, an unaccountable feeling
that when he said that nothing would go outside this
room, he meant it. Of course, I may be wrong . . ."

" Well, what does he want to talk to his secretary
about ? "

" What does he want to do anything for ? " asked
George, and they both relapsed into silence.

" I can't stand this," he suddenly broke out again a
little later. " Doesn't he realise that we've got a train
to catch ? I can't kick my heels all night in this bloom-
ing cross between a Pullman-car and a stage bedroom.
How much longer does he mean to keep us here ? "

Bill shrugged his shoulders. Speculation on anything
connected with Mr. Girling seemed so useless. He
sank back in his big arm-chair, while George continued
to pace the room like a caged lion. Every third or
fourth time that he turned, he uttered an ejaculation
of impatience, and after every third or fourth ejacula-
tion, he w^ould make as if he were going to open the
door, only to abandon his intention on the very threshold
and resume his march across the carpet.

As for Bill, he was certainly no less anxious to get
finished vnih the interview, for there was still much to
be done before leaving London. But the combination
of his fatigue from the night before and the heavy,
drugged atmosphere of the room, had the effect of mak-

198 BILL THE BACHELOR

ing him a temporary fatalist. If Mr. Girling had gone
away and forgotten all about them, or had locked the
door and was preparing to set fire to Imperial Buildings,
nothing, he felt, that he could do could make any
difference. Of only one thing was it possible to be
reasonably certain, and that was that whatever happened
next would be something that he didn't expect.

And then at last, when the clock was on the point of
registering half an hour of their imprisonment, the door
opened again and Mr. Girling re-appeared. He sped
past them both and resumed his place on the sofa, rather
as though he were trying to create the illusion that he
had never really left the room ; while George pulled
himself up in his tracks, and Bill levered himself off his
shoulder-blades into a position which is more generally
associated with arm-chairs.

Yet even now they were kept waiting for another
minute while a young woman came in with a fresh kettle
and placed it carefully on the little tray by the sofa.

" Thank you," said Mr. Girling, dismissing her ; and
then, turning to his visitors, he added : " You're sure
you won't join me in a cup of tea ? "

" No, thank you," said George and Bill together.

Mr. Girling slowly poured himself out another cup and
raised it to his lips.

" Ah," he sighed, and put it back on the tray.

" Now, then, gentlemen," he continued, " I must
apologise for keeping you waiting so long, but I have an
alternative suggestion to put before you, and I should
like you to consider it very carefully. I don't withdraw
my first proposal ; I never withdraw anything ; but I
think this is a plan which may suit both of us a good
deal better."

He remained for a moment lost in thought, and then
resumed.

" I will pay off the loan which you have incurred with
your bankers. I will also place two hundred and fifty
thousand francs to your credit with my own bank in
Paris. If it should be necessary, I will supply you with
any further funds which you may require for carrying

MR. GIRLING 109

ou this agency until I am satisfied that it is well on its
feet, at a nominal rate of interest — let us say two and
a half per cent. In return for these services I shall
nominate a gentleman who will draw a tliird share of
any profits arising from this French business, and who
will remain with you in Paris as my representative as
long as I think fit. We won't call him a partner, because
I won't have him tied by any articles of association,
but I think his advice may be of assistance to you. If
you accept, this gentleman will leave with you for Paris
to-night. Also, if you accept, I will undertake that
Messrs. Ledbury will raise no further difficulties about
accepting your Finnish order. I have only one condi-
tion to make, and that is that whatever you decide to
do, my name is on no account to be mentioned by either
of you as having any connection with this business. I
hope I have made myself clear."

He stopped, and for a moment there was silence.
Then he took out his watch.

" This alternative offer will remain open for ten
minutes," he added. " I shall be glad to answer any
questions, if you have any to put."

George and Bill turned and looked at each other in
helpless amazement, and each saw the same thought
reflected in the other's expression. Mr. Girling's riches
had clearly driven him mad. What other conceivable
explanation could there be for this complicated and yet
pointless suggestion ? What could he be driving at ?
What advantage could he hope to get out of it all V

It was George who found his voice first.

" May I ask the name of this other man ? " he said.

" Certainly," replied Mr. Girling courteously. " I
beg your pardon. I should of course have explained
that. My nominee will be Mr. Pilbrow, whom I think
you have both already met. He is at present acting as
my private secretary."

So far as Bill was concerned, the only^ effect of this
statement was to make his mental fog come on thicker
than ever. And yet he had an irritating kind of feeling
that if only he could get hold of things the right way

200 BILL THE BACHELOR

round, this piece of information should have caused
some sort of light to shine on the mystery. Meanwhile
time was quickly passing.

" May I and my partner have a couple of minutes in
which to talk this over ? " he suggested.

*' Certainly," said Mr. Girling, more suavely than ever.
" I will leave you." And once again he got up from the
sofa and floated out of the room.

George sank into another of the big arm-chairs.

" This beats me," he said.

" Well," said Bill, " there's only one thing that I can
see. If this Mr. What' s-his -name comes in on a third
share, I suppose he's there to play Osman Girling's
game and not ours."

" I suppose so," said George. " But what is the
game? Don't tell me that Girling has ever made his
money by playing fairy godmother to people in our
sort of position, or that he means to begin now. Be-
cause I won't believe it."

And indeed Bill could not but agree that one would
far more readily associate him with the part of the Demon
King.

" Perhaps he wants to do his secretary a good turn,"
he suggested.

" What, by getting him a share in a business that
may go bust any minute ? That's a funnv sort of good
turn."

" Well, perhaps he wants to do us a good turn ? "

" Then why fetch in the secretary ? No, my dear old
Bill, it's no good looking for reasons, because we shan't
find them. All we've got to decide is whether we are
going to sell a third share in Lemaitre's business for ten
thousand pounds and Osman Girling's backing, or
whether we're going to try and carry on by ourselves
with him against us."

" If you put it like that," said Bill, " I don't see that
we've got much choice."

" Well, have we ? I ask you ; have we ? "

" If you and I stick together," added Bill, " and
Girling daren't let his name come into it — though why

MR. GTRLTNG 201

not, heaven only knows — then I don't see how this other
fellow can do us much harm. After all, we shall be
two to one. But did you ever hear anything so insane
as asking us to make up our minds in ten minutes ? "

" No," said George. " But I'm afraid he means it."

" Well, look here, then," said Bill. " Let's try him
with this. Let's say we'll agree, if we can have the
option at the end of a year, or whatever period you like
to say, of buying the secretarj-^ out again for ten thou-
sand pounds plus an agreed percentage."

" But what's the point of that ? "

" No particular point, except that I don't know the
fellow, and I don't want him. Of course it's more than
likely we shouldn't have the money, even if he agrees,
but — well, dash it all, I don't see why he should make
all the conditions."

" All right," said George. " We'll try him with that.
I expect we'll be sorry, whatever we do."

" I shouldn't wonder," said Bill. And at these words
the door opened again and Mr. Girling returned.

" Well, gentlemen ? " he asked.

" We accept your offer, Mr. Girling," said George,
" if you will agree to this one condition." And he
repeated Bill's suggestion.

Mr. Girling shrugged his shoulders.

" Very well," he said, carelessly. " We'll say one
year, and fifteen per cent, on whatever sum I have to
pay out. Does that suit you ? "

George looked at Bill.

" Yes," said Bill.

" Mr. Pilbrow will meet you at Victoria at a quarter
to eight, then," Mr. Girling went on. " He will hand
you a memorandum setting out the particulars of our
arrangement. My name won't appear in it, as he will
be acting for me from now onwards ; but you need have
no fear that I will not keep to my part of the agreement."

He glanced at the ceiling again for a moment, and
then added :

" And Ledburys' will give you any reasonable credit
now that you want. I am much obliged to you, gentle-

202 BILL THE BACHELOR

men. Don't forget, my name drops out of this for good
from this moment. If I find that you've used it, I'll
smash you both."

Nothing could be gentler, or more alarming, than the
way in which he uttered this threat.

" Good afternoon, gentlemen," he concluded, and
turning his back, he crossed the room and sat down at
his little writing-table.

Somehow or other George and Bill found their way
through the secretary's empty room out into the street.

" Well," asked George, " what do you make of that ? "

Bill didn't answer him. He was thinking of Leslie's
admiration the night before, when he had boasted to
her of the things that he was going to do with his silly
little business, and he had a very unpleasant feeling
that he had secured that admiration under false pre-
tences. For what was the use of deceiving oneself ?
From the moment that George and he had accepted
Mr. Girling's offer, they had — and he suddenly knew
it — become pawns in one of his big games. What good
was it to speak of " lashing out," as he had done to
Leslie last night ? Why, Girling had even put his
private secretary in to see that they behaved.

Yet what else could they have done ?

He turned to George impatiently.

" Oh, for Heaven's sake," he said, " let's talk of
something else."

" I'm sorry, Bill," answered George. " I know how
you feel. But I'm not forgetting whose fault this has
been. Don't think that."

" George," said Bill, " I'm a brute. Let's — let's have
a drink."

" You ? A drink ? "

" Yes. And if you ask me what, then I say any
dashed stuff in the world except tea."

George's grin flickered and vanished.

" I rather agree with you," he answered.

MR. GIRLING 208

7

Probably neither of the partners would have felt any
great surprise if the bald-headed secretary had failed
to put in an appearance on the continentaJ boat train,
for once away from the exotic atmosphere of Mr. Girling's
lair, it became almost impossible to believe in the reality
of that extraordinary interview. However, whether
he turned up or not, their immediate plans must remain
unchanged ; and as a matter of fact, when they reached
Victoria, accompanied by a shaved and considerably
soothed Barrett, almost the first person they saw was
Mr. Pilbrow, standing by the bookstall, and examining
the magazine covers. With a hat on his head he looked
unexpectedly young, and when Bill touched him on the
arm, he turned and smiled in a way that was almost
human. Perhaps, after all, it would be possible to
shake down vnth this unknown quantity.

Bill introduced Barrett and explained that he was also
crossing.

" Good," said Pilbrow. " I've just told the con-
ductor a lie and reserved four seats in the end section
of the Pullman, so this will make it true."

Bill had been hoping to get alone somewhere with
George, but if the seats really had been reserved, and
as the bald-headed secretary was so clearly trying to
make himself agreeable, he merely thanked him, and
they all moved together to the barrier.

But once in the train, Mr. Pilbrow made no further
attempts at conversation.

" This is for you," he said, handing George a large
envelope, and immediately he became absorbed in the
magazines which he had bought. As for Barrett, he
was an ideal travelling companion, for he fell asleep the
second the train started, and never woke up except at
Folkestone and Boulogne, where he displayed an
astonishing bilingual efficiency, which resulted in their
getting on and off the boat before anyone else.

George and Bill examined Mr. Girling's memorandum
in turn. Whether it would have possessed any value
in a Court of Law, it was impossible to say ; it was

204 BILL THE BACHELOR

certainly a great deal shorter and clearer than any
ordinary legal document ; but it agreed with his verbal
proposals in every respect. And Pilbrow's shining
cranium, swaying gently with the motion of the train,
seemed suddenly to take on a very reassuring appear-
ance.

" After all," Bill whispered to George, " we've got a
hostage with us."

But most of the journey he was thinking of something
quite apart from his commercial troubles ; of something
that he had learnt when he had rung up Maurice's
house just before leaving the flat, to tell him that he
was going abroad on business, and must cancel the
arrangements for his next dinner.

" How long will you be away ? " Maurice had asked.

" I don't quite know," Bill had answered. " Some
little time, probably. But I'll write to you."

" Oh, by the way. Bill. Look here. What did you
mean by telling me that the White House was in the
market ? "

" Well, I was told it was. Isn't it ? "

" No, it isn't."

" Why, how did you find out ? "

" Well, after you told me about it the other day, I
wrote to Lord Longwood. I shouldn't have thought
it was necessary to remind him who I was, especially as
he'd just been seeing you. But still, so that there
shouldn't be any mistake, I did remind him."

" Well ? "

" I asked him whether he wanted to let or sell, and
if he'd let me know the price."

" Yes ? "

" Well, I didn't hear anything for four or five days,
and I was just going to write again, when I got a letter
from some fellow called Harvey. His secretary or his
agent, I suppose."

"Yes," said Bill. " That's his secretary. What did
he say ? "

" He wrote a damned stiff sort of letter saying that
he regretted that the property was not for disposal.

MR. GIRLING 205

It made me pretty sick, especially after what you said
about the old man being so particular who got it.
Doesn't he think I'm good enough ? "

" Oh, of course not. Somebody else must have taken
it."

" Well, but who ? There was no talk of it ten days
ago, was there ? "

"No," said Bill. " But that's what must have
happened."

" I suppose it must. But it's a bit odd, all the same ;
and infernally annoying. Well, good luck to you."

" Thanks awfuUv. Give my love to your family.
Good-bye."

" Good-bye."

Yes, it was puzzling. In fact it was so puzzling, that
even when they had reached the Gare du Nord the next
morning, Bill still didn't know whether he were pleased
or disappointed.

V

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE

There is a little cajd on the rive gauche where my friend
P'ere Bossu often pauses for his apirit

I beg your pardon. I didn't really mean to write
that. But you have no idea how difficult it is for an
author to begin a chapter on Paris except in this way.
Literary traditions are so strong, and human nature is
so weak, that the words had escaped from my pen before
I had a chance to stop them. Of course the little cafe
had nothing whatever to do with the story. Nor had
Pire Bossu ; nor his aperitif. They were simply an
author's idea of introducing local colour. My desk —
it is a table really, but all authors refer to them as desks
— is simply crammed with rejected short stories which
begin like this, and for the moment the temptation to
use up some of this waste material must have overcome
me. I apologise. I will try to start again.

But it is a little difficult, you know. Even if one
cuts out the italics — and I have plenty more words just
as good as the ones above — there is another great handi-
cap to be dealt with. It is the first rule of all Literary
Correspondence Schools that one must never write about
France without previously working oneself up into a
state of romantic hysteria about the country and its
customs. How exactly this is to be done is never fully
explained. But it is understood that a strong dose of
brandy and garlic is of considerable assistance. The
brandy shifts one's perspective and the garlic makes one
cry, and in this condition one lets oneself go, and the
rest follows. What the French themselves think of
the result is not known ; but the English come running

206

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 207

for it, and as for the Americans — well, honour among
thieves, you know. I mustn't begin getting personal
about other authors.

But this is the trouble. Are we to sacrifice truth
and represent Bill Eraser as living in a round of fancy-
dress balls and curiously-coloured drinks (with perhaps
a little subplot about a consumptive grisette), which is
what the public expect ; or are we to sacrifice Bill
himself and all his claims to popularity, by admitting
that although he passed no less than four months of his
life in Paris, he spent them practically entirely in an
office and a bed-sitting-room, and was, moreover,
acutely miserable almost the whole time ?

Perhaps we could meet the difficulty in this way.
Couldn't we take all the gush about France as read ?
Couldn't we admit right at the beginning that there is
no country in the world exactly like that which the
French nation happens to occupy, and that among its
inhabitants are to be found (as in the case of other lands)
supreme exemplifications of every manner of virtue ;
and having done this, couldn't we leave it to other
people to wallow in italicised sentiment, while we get
on with the plain facts ? I'm afraid I haven't put it
very tactfully, but you get the idea, don't you ? There
can be no question that this arrangement would save
a tremendous amount of space ; far more than has been
taken up in this little interruption ; and anyone who
still feels that he really must have the local colour at
the same time has only got to have the prescription which
is mentioned above made up in his own kitchen, and sip
it at intervals while reading the story. The result can
almost be guaranteed.

Now, then. Those in favour of this proposal, kindly
signify the same in the usual manner.

Those against ?

Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen. We'll
go right ahead at once.

And now that everything is clear again, it may perhaps
be pointed out that it was entirely Bill's own fault

208 BILL THE BACHELOR

that he stayed on in Paris, while George, as soon as the
pressure of the general crisis permitted, returned to
London. For if there were any particular reason why
one partner rather than the other should remain at
the office in the Rue d'Uzes, one might have expected
the matter to be settled by the fact that Bill was the
tenant of a London flat, while George still preferred to
live in rooms from which he could at any time remove
himself by giving a week's notice. But the more
obvious solution was complicated by the formulation
m Bill's mind of the first of his Rules for a young man who
finds that he has fallen in love with a rich young woman.
And this first Rule was that one might go on being in
love as much as one liked, provided that one kept away
from the object of one's affections.

Set down like this, it ceitainly seems rather a silly
rule, and in these days there can be very few people
who would think of following it. For one thing, although
originally invented in a spirit of renimciation and un-
selfishness, it is obvious that it entirely disregarded
Leslie's feelings and preferences in the matter. But
there it was, and perhaps we might wait for further
examples of the code before we condemn it too
impatiently.

In any case, if one wanted to keep away from her, and
to do it in a manner which would be neither rude nor
suspicious, here was certainly a golden opportunity.
So in the intervals of all the thousand and one things
which had to be done, Bill returned again and again to
his unexplained desire to be the one to stay in Paris,
and the good-natured George, reluctant and uncomfort-
able as he felt about it, in the end agreed. He even
consented to become Bill's temporary tenant at Regency
House, thereby losing, probably for ever, his own well-
tried lodgings. But whatever explanation he may
have imagined for the obstinacy of his partner's choice,
he kept his thoughts to himself. Which, it will probably
be agreed, was a great deal more than the partner
deserved.

George also took back with him M. Thibaud, who was

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 209

accommodated in Bill's room at Pardon Court — thus
saving the rent of his former quarters in the East Cheap
rabbit-warren — while Mr. Pilbrow remained for the
time being in Paris, where Barrett was promoted to the
rank of manager.

For the unfortunate M. Kessler survived two opera-
tions only to succumb to heart-failure just as the surgeons
were expecting him to come round after the third ; the
third, which they had told him with unconscious honesty
was to be the last. Bill went to his funeral, at which he
was offered, and, out of respect for the relatives' feelings,
accepted, more strange cordials than he might afterwards
have cared to describe. Indeed, his memory of the
whole overwhelming ritual became blurred and misty,
and there is no use concealing the fact that he was
very ill for the next twenty-four hours ; but this was
attributed by Pilbrow, who also went, drank and suffered,
to the length of time that everybody was kept standing
in the rain, and there is no doubt that this must have
helped.

Thus departed the victim of the affaire Lemattre, and
of the guilty survivors nothing further has ever been
heard. Whether the disgusting old gentleman succeeded
in retaining the affections of Mme. Kessler throughout
the years of their exile must remain, therefore, unknown.
It seems probable, though, that he did ; for a companion
who has it in her power to send you to the guillotine
is without question one with whom it will pay to keep
on good terms.

Abandoning further speculation on this point, there
remains Mme. Lemaitre, the invalid about whom it may
be remembered that George Lucas once said that there
was no fake. And here we come on a curious fact which
should be of special interest to the medical profession.
For George was quite right ; there had been no fake.
Mme. Lemaitre had been ill for years and had become
progressively iller. Her own doctors' evidence on this
point can scarcely be disputed. Why, then, should
this domestic tragedy, which might reasonably have
been expected to bring down her grey hairs in sorrow
o

210 BILL THE BACHELOR

to the grave, have had the surprising effect of restoring
her almost immediately to robust, not to say offensive
health ? Various ideas will suggest themselves to
account for this phenomenon. It is possible that her
husband had been systematically poisoning her for years,
or that the doctors had been doing the same thing, and
now mistrusted her continued ability to pay them for
it. It is conceivable that the nervous shock did really
shake her up to such an extent that the cause of her
illness, whatever it was, was removed. But there
are certainly attractions about the theory put forward
by George on one of his later visits. George pointed out
that once a Frenchwoman becomes a widow — and this,
according to him, was just as much the case before the
war as it is to-day — she is practically immortal. It is
hardly necessary to have recourse to statistics to support
this view, for the truth of it will be immediately apparent
to any one who has ever travelled in France. Mme.
Lemaftre, as the wife of a man wanted on a capital
charge, may have been more of a potential than an
actual widow ; but this is the important fact : she
dressed like one.

Anyhow, one may be glad that Messrs. Eraser and
Company adopted Pilbrow's suggestion, and bought
her an annuity. The exchange being what it was,
this didn't come to so very much, and after all she had
never done any of them any harm. But George and
Bill might have been much interested if they had
realised at the time the exact mixture of humanity and
business foresight which prompted the inscrutable
Pilbrow to resist their alternative proposal to pay her
an allowance out of the firm's profits.

The word " inscrutable " has been used, but it is
doubtful whether this epithet would suggest itself to
most people who met Mr. Charles Pilbrow in the ordinary
casual way. For he was no silent, mysterious, enig-
matic figure. On the contrary he was a pleasant and,
up to a point, even a talkative companion. His in-
scrutability was merely reflected from his master and
showed itself in an extreme reluctance to make any

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 211

reference to Mr. Girling's name and a complete refusal
to discuss Mr. Girling's plans. Apart from this, nobody
could have been more helpful, more intelligent or more
keen in everything connected with the re-establishment
of the Agence Lemaitre. His efforts during the first
critical weeks were untiring and inspired, and his
enthusiasm helped largely to carry them forward to
success. The rival claimants to the ownership of the
business whom Bill had at first expected to meet, never
appeared. But it was Pilbrow who wrestled with and
overcame the Paris police in their endeavours first to
remove, and secondly to place official seals on everything
in the room where the crime had been committed. His
were the confidence-compelling circulars which one by
one brought the English manufacturers back into the
fold, when a clumsy move might have frightened them
away for ever. His were the plans for re-organising the
office on improved and more economical lines, and it
was his determination which carried them through in
the face of powerful opposition from the French staff.
But at the end of the first month or six weeks, when at
last it was possible to look again with some degree of
hope towards the future, he suddenly took his departure,
and after this his appearances were fitful and irregular,
though never to an extent which could prevent him
remaining fully informed on the general position of the
business. To keep himself up-to-date on these details
was always his first care whenever he returned, and as
he checked them off on his fingers he would make sudden,
sharp criticisms and suggestions which were always
helpful and as often as not invaluable.

And yet although, or perhaps because the business was
expanding again, there was no immediate prospect of
any appreciable addition to the divisible profits. For
Pilbrow' s policy, and it was a policy which in the cir-
cumstances neither George nor Bill felt inclined to resist,
was turning the whole thing into something more in the
nature of a wholesale house and less in the nature of an
agency every day. More than once application had to
be made, through Pilbrow, to Mr. Girling for more money

212 BILL THE BACHELOR

with which to finance their undertakings, and every
time the cash made its mysterious appearance at Mr.
Girhng's Paris bank. If all continued to go well, it
really seemed as though in a year or two everyone
concerned would be drawing a very comfortable income,
but what used to wake Bill up in the night was his
complete and continued ignorance as to what Mr.
Girling's ultimate game could be. As long as he stood
in with them, or even if he gave reasonable notice of
his withdrawal, there seemed nothing to fear about the
present unusual arrangement. But what was to stop
him at any moment deserting them as suddenly as he
had come to their assistance ?

Yet this anxiety was only an occasional one, and as
time went by it seemed less and less capable of having
any definite basis. After all, Bill asked himself, was
it likely that Mr. Girling, knowing his secretary's
abilities as he must have done, would have sent him out
to help them, if he had not meant them well ? Was
there any sense in fears which did not take this fact
into consideration ?

2

Bill's second Rule had to do with the important matter
of correspondence, and may be briefly summarised as
follows : —

A poor young man may write to a rich young woman
once in six weeks without direct provocation, but he mustn't
write oftener unless she asks him a definite question.

It was, of course, this second clause which made it
so difficult to know whether one were keeping the rule
or not. It was no good fixing on the presence of a note
of interrogation as evidence of a definite question,
because Leslie hardly ever made use of them at all.
She seemed, in common with many of her sex, to prefer
exclamation marks. And when she did ask a question,
it was very likely one which it was quite impossible to
answer.

One might take Bill's first letter, written within a

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 21S

week of his arrival in Paris, and its acknowledgment as
cases in point.

" This is to explain,''' Bill had written, and he really
saw no rule standing in the way of such explanation,
" why I shan't be able to come and call, to thank you for
that dance. I have had to come here suddenly on business,
and it will probably be some months before I am in England
again. I had been hoping so much that perhaps you would
have let me go with you to some more, but I am afraid the
season will be over and you will be gone from London
before I can get back. If by any chance you are coming
over to buy clothes this summer, I hope you will let me
know."

At this point he had stopped and re-read his composi-
tion, and in a sudden, self-conscious fear that he might
haAC gone too far had added: *'But I suppose it is
getting rather late for that sort of thing, really.'^

He was pleased with this letter on the whole. It
struck him as so restrained, so natural, so altogether
falling within his self-imposed restrictions. And yet
when Leslie answered it, nearly a fortnight later, all
she said was : " Dear Bill, — Why should it be too late
for me to buy clothes. Did you really think I was as old
as all that ! I hope you're making lots of money — Yours
ever, Leslie Grahame."

No interrogation mark, two questions, and neither of
them capable of being answered. What did the Rules
say about that ?

Well, to be perfectly open about it, the Rule about
corresjDondence was a failure from the beginning. The
six weeks became something much more like a fortnight,
and the proviso about definite questions lapsed altogether.
But Bill was very careful. Though he described prac-
tically everything that he was doing, he never once
said how he was hating it ; in fact it was quite remarkable
how little of his feelings on any subject under the sun
he managed to convey. It would have been even more
remarkable, if we didn't know that every letter repre-
sented a waste-paper-basket full of abandoned drafts
— some of them abandoned in more senses than one.

214 BILL THE BACHELOR

And he never wrote again until he had had an
answer.

Such answers as they were too. The one which has
been quoted was as long as almost any of them. And
yet, even in the shortest, there was always something
tantalisingly characteristic, though it might be only a
mis-spelling, which put him to tortures of impatient
longing. He kept them in his despatch-box on his hotel
dressing-table, and every one of them was read seven
hundred times before it was put away. The whole
bundle could, before the war, have been posted for a
penny.

And the ridiculous thing about it all was that he really
imagined that by staying abroad like this and overwork-
ing all the week and seeing nobody but his own staff and
a quantity of French business men, he was going the
right way about things to get over his inconvenient
passion. Heaven knows that you and I aren't the kind
of people to set ourselves up as experts on sentiment ;
we know better how to occupy our time ; but even we
could have told him what would happen if he went on
like this. The harder he worked, the less he forgot and
the more convinced he became that he was acting in a
very noble and uncomfortable way. Yet we mustn't
imagine him as happy. He wasn't in the least happy
and he didn't even enjoy his misery, except once or twice,
when, I am sorry to say, he constructed in his mind a
slightly nauseous scene in which he was standing as god-
father to Leslie's eldest child. He was very rich in this
scene, and had premature white hair and a fur overcoat.
And the organ was playing, which as a matter of fact
it very seldom does at christenings, and Leslie was stand-
ing on the other side of the font, proud and lovely, but
with a tear trembling in her eye when she looked at this
distinguished friend of her early days, and thought of
the long years of suppression and unhappiness which
she was doomed to spend with her neglectful and brutal
husband. It was all very, very sad, and beautiful, and
absurd.

And Leslie's letters being what they were. Bill was

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 215

driven to other sources of information on a subject to
which she only referred occasionally, and then in a
distant and elliptical manner ; namely, the continued
rise to fame of the second Lord Long wood. For all
that Leslie ever wrote was, " Pa-pa is very busy,'' or
" Papa is still very busy,'' and once, " / am rather worried
about Papa being so busy.'' She never mentioned what
he was being busy about, and it was left to the Paris
Daily Mail and the English newspapers to fill in the gaps.
From these any one might gather how rapidly Lord
Longwood was coming to be regarded as indispensable
to the various emergency committees with whose assist-
ance the Government were at this time attempting to
avoid the difficulty of making up their own minds. His
appointment to the Taxation Committee, to the Deputy-
Chairmanship of which he later succeeded on the death of
Lord Moorgate, has already been mentioned. But the
summer was not over before he had also taken his place
on the Employment Committee and the Output Com-
mittee, and each time the illustrated Press was sprinkled
with his photographs ; playing golf, getting out of his
car, sitting in his study, or carrying a portfolio in
the neighbourhood of Whitehall. Other persons, both
Lords and Commoners, were appointed to these com-
mittees— they could hardly Jhave been committees
otherwise — but from the attitude taken by the Press
this fact might easily have been overlooked. Even the
Amalgamated Society of Caricaturists (or whatever
body it is that arranges these things) was driven to
devising a formula to be used for representing him in
cartoons.

A more than usually difficult job this must have been,
for Lord Longwood had never cultivated a big collar
or queer hats or any of the other insignia which most
famous men are so careful to develop. If you were to
meet him in a crowd, your eye might or might not light
on him ; but if it should do so, all it would see would be
a quiet, kind-looking, elderly gentleman, blinking a
little, probably, and fumbling at the buttons of his
waistcoat or the bow of his tie. In these circumstances

316 BILL THE BACHELOR

the caricaturists were compelled to create a more or
less imaginary being, whose sole distinguishing mark
was a very shiny top-hat. This, of course, indicated
great wealth, which may, after all, have been the facet
which it was desired most particularly to emphasise.
It was certainly a qualification of whose existence there
could be no serious question.

Even with the suspicions which his peculiar know-
ledge of the circumstances had prepared in Bill's mind,
he couldn't help wondering whether the thing might not,
after all, be genuine. For there were none of the
crudities of the Baxter business this time. Lord Long-
wood was never called upon to perform in public. One
was presented with the picture of this enormously rich
and gifted man, occupied in mysterious functions which
were in some undisclosed manner to undo the regrettable
effects of the war. But one was never allowed close
enough to be able to make out what he was really doing.
There were no personal interviews whose authenticity
or otherwise might have given him away. Always
he was represented as carrying out his beneficent duties
in a kind of mist of secrecy. One might detect his
shadow on the blind even so near the centre of affairs
as at a meeting of a cabinet sub-committee, but one was
never admitted more closely than this to the heart of
things.

Even without the existence of these suspicions. Bill
might have found it hard to make out what was really
going on. For no ordinary outsider ever knew which
Government committees were to be taken seriously and
which weren't. In these years of hand-to-mouth
policies, even the Government themselves might have
found it difficult to tell. And supposing that the whole
thing could really be traced back to Harvey, to what
was it all leading ? Was there a definite plan of cam-
paign in which these committees were preliminary
steps, or was he just taking opportunities as they arose
for the pure fun of the thing ; entering his charge for
each event as and when it cropped up, without any
particular care or regard for the outcome of it all V

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 217

What, Bill wondered, would have been the final stage
with the great Baxter, if a compulsory separation had
not taken place ?

Other people, who knew nothing of Austin Harvey,
were beginning to be puzzled too. Maurice's letters
to his brother in exile were few and far between — most
of the London news came from Beatrix — , but in almost
every one he referred to what he called the Longwood
mystery.

" Of course^'''' wrote Maurice, " in these days the land
is full of newspaper figureheads who are kept in position
entirely by well paid publicity, and yet really count for
nothing at all. I don't blame them if they like to spend
their money that way, though I should be disbarred if I
started it myself. But quite apart from the fact that Long-
wood is a gentleman, what beats me is what he wants to
get out of it all. He's got a title, he's got money, and he's
got quite a lot of influence in the City in a quiet sort of
way, but I don't know what will happen to the last of these
if he doesn't pull in his horns a bit. People don't like
being mystified, except by professional mountebanks, and
no one would call Lord L. that. There have been one or
two rumours of his going in for some big kind of recon-
struction, something to do with textiles I was told, but
no one really believes in it. Why should he, after all,
when he's only got to sit still and rake in as much money
as anyone can hope to spend ? By the way, as I can't
get that house, I'm thinking of buying a car. I can't
ajford it, but I think Beatrix would like it, and it would
be useful for golf ..."

The rest of the letter was all about ignition and sus-
pension and other technicalities. Like all barristers,
Maurice could achieve omniscience on any subject in the
world in about five minutes. . When Bill had last seen
him, it was doubtful whether he would have known a
speedometer from a sparking-plug. He had never taken
any interest in the workings of the ancestral Panhard.
In one of his other letters Maurice wrote : '' Many
thanks for your congratulations. I must say I never
thought I should get it" (" It " being the recordership.

218 BILL THE BACHELOR

which had just fulfilled his and Beatrix's wishes.) " By
the way, I met the great Longwood at a dinner the other
night and Leslie too. I went for them both about the White
House. Lord L. didn't remember getting my letter, which
I must say surprised me rather, but it turns out that what
he has done is to give the place to Leslie — not to live in
now, but when she gets married, which I should think
would be jolly soon, for she's certainly a stunner. Beatrix
took to her like anything. She seemed to be very well-
informed on your movements and activities. L. himself
struck me as looking ill ; said he thought he'd been over-
doing it . . ."

So that was what had happened to the White House.
There were, it seemed, to be no consolation prizes in this
game. One either got everything, or nothing ; and the
white-haired man in the fur overcoat would have to find
some other spot in which to spend his declining years.

And Maurice thought she would be married jolly soon,
did he ? Dash it all, he needn't have said so, even if he
did. Clumsy great idiot ! For the thousandth time
since he had arrived in Paris, Bill all but decided to
make any kind of excuse and dash back to London.
But the Rules had said that he was to stick it out until
his summer holiday, if he ever took one, and this time
the Rules were in the end obeyed.

There was a postscript in Beatrix's handwriting to
this last letter, for which we might perhaps find space.

" Dearest Bill, you shouldn't really have sent such a
wonderful doll, but I do hope it means you are feeling rich.
Sylvia is enchanted with it, and has called it Christabel.
After you, she says. I wonder if you see this ? '*

8

The Continental might be all very well for George
Lucas when he had come to Paris for three nights and
was writing cheques for thousands of pounds, but for
Bill's more permanent residence something a little
simpler was needed. And accordingly, after one or
two trial shots at unstarred hostelries of a not very
satisfactory nature, he settled down in a bed-sitting-

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 219

room in the seventh arrondissement, and between this
and the office in the Rue d'Uz^s he oscillated every
week-day, and as often as not on Sunday as well. When-
ever Pilbrow was in Paris he would generally put up at
the same little hotel, but this did not mean that the
two of them then oscillated together. For while nothing
would induce Pilbrow to walk, nothing could prevail on
Bill to do anything else. Not that Bill's objection was
due to any insular desire for exercise. It is more simply
and perhaps less creditably explained by his distaste
for sharing in the battles at the Metro stations and
autobus stopping places ; those battles which are so
marvellously complicated by the devices which the
authorities have adopted for enforcing liberty, equality
and fraternity. If he had been in London during
1917 and 1918, there is little doubt that he would have
learnt how to kick and be kicked by members of both
sexes as well as anybody. But having missed this early
training, he was a little uneasy about beginning now ;
fearing, possibly, to imperil the entente, but more
probably from a reluctance to risk his own life. Yes,
of the two, it seems likely that in the long-run Pilbrow
got more actual exercise than Bill.

But if they didn't go to and from the office together,
they saw plenty of each other during the rest of the day,
and Bill could hardly have wished for a more unobjec-
tionable companion. The assumed air of self-import-
ance which had distinguished Mr. Pilbrow during their
first two meetings, when he had had his reputation as a
private secretary to keep up, completely passed away
as he made himself better known. And though Bill
was as easy as most men to get on with, nothing could
have exceeded the tact with which Pilbrow introduced
his various suggestions for dealing with the business
problems that arose. If his velvet glove concealed an
iron hand, as it probably did, it can only be said that
it concealed it very thoroughly. Away from business
he revealed himself as simple, unaffected and almost
incredibly uneducated. The most obvious literary or
historical reference, the kind of thing that is constantly

2^ BILL THE BACHELOR

cropping up in the mouths of quite normally ill-informed
persons, would leave him gaping and puzzled, but never
ashamed to ask what had been meant. Bill used to
lend him books, for which he always received profuse
thanks ; but there was no evidence that Pilbrow ever
read them. And once Pilbrow lent Bill a book. It was
called The Gospel of Get-On, and he said that he had
found it very helpful. Bill found it dull, and would
have found is depressing also, if Pilbrow had not so
clearly failed to live up to its objectionable precepts.
This seemed to show that it was, after all, possible to
get on, without (as the book would have had you do)
constantly bringing out something called your person-
ality, and battering other people on the head with it.
A curious couple in many ways, but they built up quite
a real kind of friendship out of their often-interrupted
time together ; and this, at any rate. Bill could not help
thinking might be considered as one of the few things
which had not entered into Osman Girling' s original
plans.

Towards the end of July, George Lucas arrived on
one of his flying visits, and he also was put up at the
little hotel. His irrepressible optimism was in tremend-
ous fettle, for, according to him, everything at Pardon
Court was going swimmingly, and he was constantly
calling on Bill to witness how he at any rate had never
despaired of finding a way out of their difficulties.
Pilbrow being also in Paris at the time, and he and
George finding more than might have been expected in
common, it was not until Bill was seeing his partner off
to London again that he had a chance of speaking to
him without interruption.

" Look here," he said, as they were driving to the
station ; " when you've quite done shouting about
what fine fellows we all are, you might tell me what
you think the end of all this is going to be. Have you
picked up any more gossip about Girling ? "

"No," said George. "Except that I did hear he'd
gone to America for a bit."

" Then it looks as if we were safe for the time being."

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 221

" What do you mean ? "

" I'm not sure that I know, George. But do you
think that he's finished with us yet ? "

" Heaven only knows. What does it matter as long
as we're making money ? "

Bill shook his head doubtfully, and changed the
subject.

" How's Mrs. Whalley looking after you ? " he asked.

" Mrs. Whalley ? Oh, nothing to complain of so far.
Of course, she's not beautiful."

Bill had to agree.

" But then, no more are you," he added.

" That's very true," said George, gravely.

The sight of the waiting boat -train gave Bill a sudden
spasm of homesickness.

" I may be coming over to see you in September," he
said. " Maurice and Beatrix have taken a furnished
house near Sandwich, and she's asked me to come if I
can. I don't see why T shouldn't snatch a few da5^s a
little later on."

" Snatch as many as you like," said George. " My
dear old Bill, you know perfectly w^ell that there's no
point in knocking yourself up over this business. Barrett
can easily keep things going, if you want to take a
holiday. Or I'd come over myself, if that would make
vou easier."

" Oh, I'm all right."

" Well, you look pretty green and beastly, old chap,"
said George consolingly.

" Oh, rot."

George peered into his partner's face.

" Perhaps you know best," he said.

" I'm all right," said Bill again, glaring at the platform.

Some unseen railway official blew a blast on a musical
instrument.

" I'd better get in," said George, and he scrambled
up the steps of his coach. " Well, good-bye, old man,"
he added, re-appearing at the window. " Take care of
yourself, and all that kind of stuff. We'll all be dead
in a hundred vears."

222 BILL THE BACHELOR

Before Bill could answer this observation, the train
gave a jerk and began to move. George vanished from
the window, and his place was taken by an elderly-
native, who began blowing kisses over Bill's head.

" Oh, well," said Bill, and he walked away in the
direction of the office.

July drew to an end in blazing heat, and August got
under way with even more torrid skies. Many of the
shops and offices shut themselves up for their annual
holiday ; and looking at the general condition of his
business. Bill felt he would be justified in fixing himself
up to take a week with Maurice and Beatrix towards
the end of September, when Barrett should have returned
from his leave. He wrote to Beatrix, informing her of
his decision. If, he said, Maurice could be induced
to spare a few minutes from the car, he would be de-
lighted to take him on at golf ; but if, as he quite
expected, this was altogether out of the question, then
he would be quite happy with his bucket and spade and
Sylvia.

Beatrix wrote one of her nice letters in reply, pressing
him to make the week a fortnight, but saying there was
no need to decide until he turned up. " We shan't be
having any one else with lis then,'' she said, " because only
barristers will still be having their holidays, and we see
quite enough of them when we are in London. Yes, do
bring your clubs and give Maurice a good beating. He
has just got a certificate from a motoring school, and Vm
sorry to say that he's a bit above himself about it. Come
as soon and stay as long as you can."

Bill wondered whether the Rules would allow him
to tell Leslie of his plans for being in England. Some-
times he thought they would, and sometimes he thought
they wouldn't, and while he was still undecided, there
came an unexpected interlude in his life of solitary
routine, which had the effect of taking the decision out
of his hands.

His daily progress between hotel and office took him
through the part of Paris which is probably best known

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 228

to visitors, and he varied his route from week to week,
taking the different bridges in turn, so as to include at
one time or another almost all the streets in this district.
In the mornings he saw and expected to see nothing
but natives, for he had to get to work early. But when
he came away again, the pavements were generally full
of English and American visitors, and he always had a
faint expectation that he might run across some one
that he knew. But as June became July, and July
became August, the class of visitor underwent a gradual
change which made him realise that this expectation
was less and less likely to be fulfilled. It seemed waste
of time to examine the faces of the gangs of herded
tourists who had taken the place of the earlier and more
independent birds of passage, now all scattered to the
seaside or the Alps. Still there was always plenty to
look at and think about in the Paris streets, and as in
this weather he had less reason than ever to hurry back
to his bed-sitting-room, his evening route remained
as unsettled and as tortuous as ever.

Thus it was that, standing in a reverie before a
jeweller's shop in the Rue de la Paix late one afternoon,
he was suddenly conscious of receiving what must and
can only be described as a dig in the ribs. He sprang
to his senses and turned quickly round, ready to be
angry or dignified as the circumstances might demand,
when, to his surprise, he discovered that the blow had
been dealt by Miss Angela Lorden. He snatched hastily
at his hat.

" Hullo," she said, in her deep voice. " It is vou,
isn't it ? "

" Yes, of course," Bill stammered. " I sav, how are
you ? " ,

" I spoke to'you three times," said Wog, " but nothing
happened, "^r Then I hit vou. I hope it didn't
hurt ? "

" Not at all," Bill hastened to assure her. "I'm
awfully sorry. I suppose I was thinking of something."

" I'm afraid you must have been. I could have
picked your pocket as easy as winking. I say, Bill, do

224 BILL THE BACHELOR

you know that you've been sent in answer to my
prayers ? "

He staggered sliglitly at this unexpected use of his
name, but quickly recovered himself.

" Why ? " he asked. " What's the matter ? "

" It's a long story," said Wog. " Where are you
going ? I'm stopping at the Crillon."

It seemed an odd address for the moneyless young
woman of Leslie's story, but then even moneyless young
women can have rich friends.

" I'm not going anywhere," said Bill. " I've just
finished my work. I'm living here now, you
know."

" Yes, I know. Leslie told me. Shall we walk ? "

They adopted her suggestion.

" And how is Leslie ? " he asked. No harm in that,
anyhow.

" Oh, she's all right. She's just off to Scotland, I
believe."

"For long?"

" Until October, I expect."

Damn ! That settled it. What was the use of
Maurice hiring a house within fifty miles of Hare Hall,
if Leslie were going to be in Scotland ? All pretence
that he had ever been going to take a holiday for any
other purpose than the hope of seeing her was swept
away by the shock of this news. He might just as well
have put it off until the Spring. He would have, what's
more, if he'd only known.

" I say," said Wog, breaking in on these savage
thoughts. " Don't you want to hear about me ? "

" I beg your pardon. Of course I do. You were
saving that it was a long story."

^" Well, it is," said Wog. " *But it all began last night,
when I got into the wrong train."

Yes, of course she would get into the wrong train.

"And I suppose you lost your luggage?" Bill sug-
gested.

"Rather," she answered with enthusiasm. "But I
lost Uncle William and Aunt Freda and Virginia and

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 225

Frank as well. Carruthers," she added, which Bill took
to be the joint surname of these missing relatives.

" But how do you mean you lost them ? " he asked.

" We've all been in Switzerland," said Wog. " Jolly
old Suisse. Had a ripping time. I won a prize at a
tennis tournament." She illustrated this triumph by
a vigorous movement with her arm, narrowly escaping
hitting a passer-by in the beard.

" Look out ! " said Bill.

" Oh, sorry. Pardon, I mean." She flashed a
brilliant smile at her victim, who showed signs of
raising his straw hat, but, seeing Bill, apparently decided
otherwise. They forged ahead.

" It's this foul passport business," continued Wog.
" They turned us all out in the middle of the night at
some rotten station, and locked us into a ghastly kind
of waiting-room. We all sweltered there for hours.
Uncle William said he'd write to the Times. Then they
suddenly let us out again. Crowds of people, bells
ringing, engines hooting. Two trains standing side by
side. I couldn't see the others anywhere, but I saw
our sleeping car. At least, I thought I saw it. They
oughtn't to make them all so like each other."

" Of course not," said Bill, sympathetically.

" In I got," Wog resumed, " and off we went. Well,
of course it was the wrong one. The conductor was
charming. Perfectly charming. And I had my
dressing-case. That was something, wasn't it ? "

" Oh, yes," said Bill. " That was certainly better
than nothing."

" Well, I got in here this morning. Lucky it was
Paris ; it might have been Constantinople for all I knew.
I sent a telegram to the others at Calais. I hope they'll
get it. I'd have gone on, but after I'd tipped the
conductor, I was cleaned out. I had to walk to the
Crillon."

" And were they pleased to see you there ? "

" Oh, yes. Delighted. You see, we all stopped there
on the way out, and I had rather a success with the
concierge. But it's been a bit dull to-day," she con-
p

226 BILL THE BACHELOR

tinned. " All these shops and things, and me with
only half a franc in Swiss money."

With the best will in the world, Bill couldn't help
laughing.

" I'm glad you see the funny side of it," said Wog,
laughing herself. " I only hope the others will."

" I suppose you didn't think of trying to get hold of
me ? " Bill asked.

" I thought of it all right, but I didn't know your
rotten address."

" Well, I suppose the best thing I can do now is to
let you have some money. Don't you think so ? "

" A friend in need is a friend indeed," sang Wog, in
her fine contralto ; and again Bill was conscious that
their progress through the capital was not passing
altogether unnoticed by the inhabitants.

" How much would you like ? " he suggested.

" Wait a minute," said Wog. " Here's the hotel,
isn't it ? Let's go in and see if they've answered my
telegram."

They entered the hall, and almost immediately one
of Miss Lorden's admirers dashed out from behind a
counter with an envelope on a tray.

" Your telegram, miss," he said.

Wog opened it and passed it to her companion.

" Stay where you are^"* Bill read. " 'Returning to
Paris.''

" What do you make of that ? " she asked.

There was no very striking evidence in this message
that the senders had appreciated the humour of the
situation.

" I don't know," said Bill, guardedly. " You see, I
don't know your uncle and aunt."

" They're not really my uncle and aunt," Wog ex-
plained. " They're only sort of cousins. But it looks
to me as if they were rather annoyed about it."

" I suppose it's just possible," Bill had to admit.

" But the trains looked exactly the same," she insisted.
" They even smelt the same. Anyone might have done
it."

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 227

** Of course they might."

" I wonder when they'll turn up," Wog mused.

It struck Bill that with the arrival of this telegram,
his assistance was no longer required. He said some-
thing about having to get along.

" Oh, no," cried Wog, seizing him by the wrist. " You
must stop and dine with me. You know you said you
weren't going anywhere."

" But "

" Of course you must. You can pay, you know, if
you prefer it ; in fact, I think you'll have to ; but I'm
not going to spend the evening alone. Not for anyone."

Perhaps he ought to stay, then. In the absence of
inclination, duty was very vague in its instructions.
What would Aunt Freda think ? Would the conventions
consider him or the concierge the more suitable guardian
for Miss Lorden, pending her " sort of cousins' " return ?

" Come on, Bill," she said, coaxing him. " A fellow
country^'oman in distress. Sir Galahad to the rescue.
You can go at half-past nine, sharp."

" Oh, very well, then," said Bill weakly. " But we'll
dine here, and you'll be my guest."

" And you'll see that I behave myself. Is that it ? "

" Yes," said Bill, with sudden firmness. " I Mill."

She laughed cheerfully.

" Wait here, then," she said. " I'll be down in ten
minutes."

Nevertheless, she was sufficiently feminine to keep her
squire waiting nearly half an hour before she re-appeared.

" I couldn't dress," she announced, " for obvious
reasons. But I've put my hat on back to front in your
honour, and I'm perfectly clean."

" I suppose you'd like a cocktail ? " Bill suggested.

" Since you're so pressing, I think I would. Make it
a Bronx."

Bill made it so.

" Here's our jolly good healths," said Wog, as she
lifted her glass.

Yes, one might conceivably disapprove of Miss
Lorden — not that Bill did himself — but one coxildn't

228 BILL THE BACHELOR

dislike her. An odd friend for Leslie, though. Or
was it so odd ? Why should one always expect people's
friends to be exactly like the people themselves ? Ex-
perience was constantly showing the fallacy of this
attitude.

" Cheer up," said Wog loudly.

Bill gave a start. Her exhortation had carried him
back to that Sunday evening at Hare Hall, when Leslie
had gone to bed with a headache. He really mustn't
get so that people were always telling him to cheer up.
They'd be asking what the matter was next.

" I beg your pardon," he said, with forced brightness.
*' I was only thinking of something. Shall we go along
into the restaurant ? "

" A Swiss half-franc for your thoughts," said Wog.

Bill shook his head.

" They're not for sale," he answered.

It was a relief to find that, probably owing to the time
of year, evening dress seemed rather the exception than
the rule in the Crillon dining-room. Wog's hat, which
was certainly rather fetching whichever way round she
wore it, procured them a table and a waiter at once, and
Bill gave his mind to ordering a dinner which he hoped
she would find sufficiently sybaritic.

" What will you drink ? " he concluded.

" Nothing, thank you. I only had that cocktail to
annoy you."

" But my dear Miss Lorden, it didn't annoy me at
all. Not in the least."

" How disappointing. You looked so young and
innocent that I thought it was bound to."

And Leslie had complained because he was middle-
aged. At twenty-nine it seemed hard to satisfy people.

" Dash it all," he said, " I may be innocent. I don't
say I'm not. But I can't see what you mean by
' young '."

" Don't you ? I'm sorry. Bill. I couldn't help
ragging you. It's a rotten thing to do, especially after
sponging on you like this."

A sudden thought came into Bill's mind.

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 229

" Talking of sponging," he said, " did you ever find
yours ? "

" My what ? "

" Your sponge."

" Oh, shut up. I only said I'd lost it so as to have
something to say."

Bill found this a little hard to follow.

" But why did you ring me up, then ? " he asked.

*' I — I wanted you to take me out to lunch."

" But why ? "

" I just wanted to talk to you. But you sounded so
rude that I decided it was no good."

" I'm awfully sorry," said Bill. " If only you'd
explained. But as a matter of fact, I remember now,
I was rather worried about something at the time."

" Business ? " asked Wog.

" Yes. Business."

" What is your business ? " she went on. " That is,
if it isn't a rude question."

" I sell things."

" What sort of things ? "

" Hosiery," said Bill.

Wog laughed.

" Do you mean stockings ? " she asked. " If so,
you needn't mind me."

" Well, stockings and other things," Bill explained.

" That's funny," said Wog.

He tried to defend himself.

" Well, somebody's got to sell them," he protested.

" And who more suitable than you ? Quite so. But
that wasn't why I called it funny."

" Where does the funniness come in, then ? "

" It comes in because Lord Longwood and that Mr.
Harvey are going to sell hosiery too."

" Are they ? " Bill was puzzled.

" I hope it isn't a secret," said Wog, " but of course
they always talk to each other as if I wasn't in the
room, so I can't help hearing what they say."

" But I'm rather interested. What exactly are they
going to do ? "

280 BILL THE BACHELOR

" I don't know. But it's something big and exciting,
and I know it's got to do with what you call hosiery,
because they used the same word."

Bill suddenly remembered Leslie's story of their
visit to Leicester.

" I wonder what it is," he said.

"I'd tell you, if I knew," said Wog. "But I'm
afraid it was all rather over my head. Stocks and
shares, you know. I say, what do you make of that
Harvev ? "

" I hardly know him," Bill answered. " Why ? "

" But I thought it was you who produced him."

" Well, as a matter of fact, I did. But I'd only seen
him once."

" And you liked him ? "

" I don't know. Yes, I think I did. I thought he
seemed rather a good fellow."

" Oh," said Wog.

" Why, what's the matter with him ? "

Wog shrugged her shoulders.

" But what has he done ? " Bill persisted.

" Well, for one thing, he's taken to calling me ' Wog '."

" Has he, by Jove ? " Bill would have been less
surprised to hear that she had taken to calling him
" Austin."

" Yes. And he tried to call Leslie ' Leslie '."

"He did? What infernal cheek!" said Bill in a
sudden fury.

" Leslie, of all people in the world," added Wog.

" And she let him ? "

" Look here. Bill," said Wog, with sudden seriousness*
" We mustn't discuss what Leslie does. LesUe's abso-
lutely perfect. You know that, don't you ? "

" Yes," answered Bill. " I know that."

" Leslie's an angel," she went on. " Nobody will

ever know quite what she did for me when Perhaps

you knew that I'd had some trouble ? "

Bill nodded.

" I can't tell you how wonderful she was to me then.
Or how wonderful she's been ever since. You may

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 281

think just because she's rich and can do whatever she
likes, that she's the same as all the others. But she's
not. She's real. Leslie's only got one fault, and that
isn't one really. She will think everybody is as nice as
she is. And some people are foul enough to think that
she's putting it on. That's what happens, you know."

It seemed to Bill that in spite of Wog's embargo, they
were discussing Leslie, and doing it pretty thoroughly ;
but he felt no inclination to stop her.

" Yes," continued Wog the philosopher. " That's
the world all over. But what are you to do with angels,
when they won't protect themselves ? "

" Protect themselves from what ? "

Wog made no answer. She was resting her chin on
the palm of her hand, and gazing into the distance.
Twice she drew in her breath as though she were going
to say something, but each time she seemed to shake her
head ever so slightly, as if finally dismissing some thought
from her mind.

" People must do things for themselves," she an-
nounced at length. " It's no good other people trying
to do things for them. Is it ? "

It will never be known what answer Bill might or
might not in the end have made to this generalisation,
for while he was still puzzling over it and wondering
what to say next, his eye was suddenly attracted by a
little scene near the door of the restaurant. An elderly
lady and a young man, both very English in appearance,
and both bearing every sign of having travelled fast
and far, had ranged themselves on either side of and
seemed now to be arguing with the maitre d'hotel. His
gesticulations were so superbly in character that Bill
was on the point of inviting Wog to turn and watch
them, when at this moment the whole party began
advancing towards his table. Good Lord, they must be
Aunt Freda and Frank !

" I say," BlU asked hastily ; "is that your aunt — I
mean your cousin ? "

" Where ? Oh, yes. And Frank. Don't they look
furious ! Now, then, Sii" Galahad ! "

282 BILL THE BACHELOR

Bill rose from his seat, as he hoped that Sir Galahad
would have done, and awaited their onslaught. Wog, on
the other hand, sat still where she was.

" Hullo ! " she called out cheerfully, as they came
within speaking distance. " Have you had dinner ? If
not, you'd better join us."

Which struck Bill as a very Wog-like opening, but
one which in all the circumstances was not perhaps best
calculated to put every one at their greatest ease.

The effect of this greeting on Aunt Freda was, indeed,
to strike her with sudden aphasia. She goggled and
glared in speechless anger. But Frank (whose appear-
ance Bill rather liked, though perhaps he was a thought
too much like all the young men at the Stewarts' dance)
broke out at once.

" I say, Wog," he said. " What the devil have you
been up to now? "

And at this, Wog also rose to her feet.

" May I introduce Mr. Eraser ? " she asked. " Bill,
this is my cousin. Captain Carruthers. Wasn't it
lucky, Frank ? I ran into Mr. Fraser when I was out
this evening, and he was kind enough to give me dinner.
Though I must say," she added, turning again to the
embarrassed Bill, " you weren't very keen on it. Wore
you, Bill ? "

Frank shot out a curt, " H'are yah ? " And at this
moment Aunt Freda recovered her powers of speech.

" I think you had better come upstairs with me now,
Angela," she said. " I should very much like to hear
what you have been doing since you left us all in the
middle of the night."

" But I haven't finished my dinner, Aunt Freda,"
Wog protested.

Talk of butter not melting in people's mouths. Her
voice was a perfect triumph of innocence and purity —
and of provocation.

" I dare say that in the circumstances Mr. Fletcher
will excuse you," said Aunt Freda. And this attack
on Bill's surname might have served her well, if Wog
had not instantly replied : " Fraser, Aunt Freda. Mr.

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 288

Eraser " ; thereby rendering it impossible for the poor
lady to continue disregarding him. Bill and she bowed
at each other in deep solemnity.

" Well, Angela, are you coming ? " Aunt Freda began
again, but with a sensible increase of impatience au \
consequent loss of dignity. Bill noticed that the diners
at the neighbouring tables were beginning to concentrate
their attention on the little group, in a way which Wog
alone found it possible to disregard. And at this point,
to his great surprise, Frank suddenly came over to the
enemy.

" Oh, hang it all. Mother," he said. " Let her finish
her dinner. I mean to say — I mean ..."

" Thank you, Frank," said Aunt Freda, though for
what exactly she was thanking him was far from clear,
and Bill could certainly detect no sound of gratitude
in her voice. And then, with a last, tremendous effort
towards re-asserting her authority, she turned and
moved towards the door. There can be little doubt
that she counted on the threatening and overwhelming
manner of this manoeuvre to draw both her son and her
cousin after her to where she could attack and demolish
them, either singly or together, without the annoyance
of the present publicity. But if this were her intention
it failed. Frank, indeed, after wavering for a moment
did follow her as far as the door. But when she turned
there and found that he was alone. Bill saw her brush
him aside with some utterance which made him fall back
in sudden disorder ; and the next instant she had dis-
appeared into the hall by herself.

And simultaneously with this final vision. Bill's
mental discomfort, which, as may be imagined, was deep
and powerful, was aggravated by the physical pain of
a fierce blow on the ankle.

" Sit down, Bill," said Wog hurriedly. " Sit down,
if you love me. When I kick you again, you can go.
I'll explain afterwards. Quickly, please!^'

Now, as we well know, it would be the height of in-
accuracy to say that Bill loved this extraordinary girl.
In fact it would be well within the truth to say that at

284 BILL THE BACHELOR

this moment he came nearer to disliking her than he had
ever been either before or since this episode. Moreover,
if her second kick should be as violent and as well-
directed as her first, he might even find considerable
difficulty in ever making his escape at all. Nevertheless,
such was the force of her appeal, that he found himself
sitting down. And as he did so, Frank rejoined
them.

" Come along, Frank," said Wog hospitably. " Come
and have some dinner."

" I say," he answered ; " what on earth made you
do that ? "

" Do what, Frank ? "

He looked uncomfortable, clearly disliking the idea
of making his meaning any plainer in the presence of a
stranger.

" Well, I mean to say," he tried ; " you'd much better
have got it over. It'll only be worse for you later on,
you know."

" I don't agree, Frank. Why, you know she was
longing for an excuse to come to Paris again. Do sit
down, there's a dear."

He did sit down.

" I suppose you expect me to believe," he went on,
" that you really did make a mistake."

" I don't care what you believe. I think you're a
beast."

Let the Franks of this world always remember that
women flourish on anachronisms. Here is Wog, most
modern of the moderns, shaking off the best part of a
century without turning a hair. And of course he goes
stumbling after her.

" No, I didn't mean that," he protested. " Really
I didn't."

But whatever he may have meant, he had implanted
a very grave suspicion in Bill's mind. A suspicion
which has never wholly departed from it.

" Then you'll take my side ? " asked Wog.

" Of course I will. Oh, yes. Thanks. Please."
These last interjections being addressed to the waiter

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 235

who was enquiring whether monsieur would have the
dinner.

" In that case I don't mind apologising to Aunt
Freda," continued Wog, graciously. " But you'll see,
Frank, when she wakes up and finds she's here after all,
she won't mind a bit."

" I hope you're right," said Frank, doubtfully ; and
brief as had been Bill's opportunity for judging Aunt
Freda's character, he could not help sharing in this
uncertainty.

" Well, even if she does," Wog added, " it won't
matter as long as you stick up for me."

Frank's rather prominent, pale eyes seemed to pro-
trude still further from his head, and he put up one
hand to settle his tie.

" You're a wonder, Wog," he said ; and then suddenly
turning to Bill, he added : " Isn't she ? "

Bill opened his mouth to confirm this statement, of
whose entire truth he had no shadow of doubt, when,
unexpectedly as before, the second kick arrived precisely
on the same spot as the first.

Despite his best intentions he was unable to re-
press a sharp cry of agony.

" What on earth's the matter ? " asked Wog, coolly.

*' I'm sorry," said Bill. " I hit my leg on the chair.
I — I got a kick from a mule once, and it still hurts
sometimes when I knock it."

" A mule ? " repeated Wog. " That's good." And
she had the impertinence to laugh.

" It's no joke, Wog," said Frank kindly. " I know
those mules."

Temptation overcame Bill.

" Ah," he said, rising to his feet.' " I wonder if you
know this one."

What a splendid exit this line and Frank's puzzled
look would have made, if it had only been a play. This
was Bill's thought as he surveyed the result of his in-
discretion. But as it wasn't a play, he had to explain
that he had some important work waiting for him, and
that as he had practically finished dinner and Miss

236 BILL THE BACHELOR

Lorden's relations had turned up, perhaps he might be
excused.

" Must you really ? " asked Wog.

" I really must."

" Well, it's been awfully good of you," said the simple-
minded Frank. " You know Wog's quite mad, so it
was rather a relief to find that she'd discovered some one
to look after her."

It was clear that he was going as near as his training
would permit to apologising for his mother's quite under-
standable rudeness. But Bill wasn't surprised to find
that he was not pressed to stay.

" Well, good-bye," he said, holding out his hand.

" Good-bye," said Wog. The violence of her grip
took the place of the wink which she was obviously
longing to give him.

" Thanks most awfully," said the two cousins again,
and Bill left them.

He found his waiter on the way out and gave him a
note to cover the cost of one dinner and a tip. He no
longer saw why, in all the circumstances of the case, he
should pay for two. And indeed, as he gave a last
glance back at the table before leaving the room, he
was more certain than ever that his decision was right.
For the simple-minded Frank had already drawn his
chair closer to that of his fascinating cousin, and it was
clear that as far as he was concerned Bill was completely
forgotten.

Our bachelor wandered across to the river and stood
by the parapet, watching the dark water slipping by,
while the trams roared behind him and the lights sparkled
on the opposite bank. Above his head stars were
beginning to gleam faintly from a pale-green sky.

And so Austin Harvey had tried to call her " Leslie,"
had he ?

Damn it all ! he wasn't keeping out of the way to
help Austin Harvey. What a horrible idea. . . .

And Leslie's only fault was that she thought every-
body as nice as she was.

But Lord Longwood would never allow it. Or would

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 237

he realise ? Or was there anything for him to
reahse ?

Bill suddenly longed to go back into the Crillon dining-
room, seize Wog by the throat and force her to tell him
what she knew ; what she thought.

But there was that pop-eyed fellow. A violent fury
swept over him at the thought of the innocent Frank.
Why, he asked unreasonably, should Frank have all the
money which he obviously had, and receive all the
encouragement which he was obviously receiving, when
other people — far better people too — had neither of
these things ? It was all dashed easy for fellows like
Frank. Frank had been so dashed certain of things and
so dashed pleased with himself, that he hadn't even
minded finding Wog dining alone with another man.

And Wog had known he wouldn't mind. Clearly ; or
she wouldn't have risked it. And why ? Because the
man was Bill Eraser, of whom it now appeared that it
wasn't even possible to be jealous.

" The man of whom nobody was jealous."

What an appalling epitaph !

The sky turned from pale-green to dark turquoise,
and from dark turquoise to black. The lights in the
buildings on the opposite bank were beginning to go out.
Bill suddenly found himself shivering, and with a wrench,
straightened his back and moved towards the nearest
bridge.

" I wish," he muttered, " I wish I'd never met the
damned girl."

Oh, no. He didn't mean Leslie.

4

But when the morning came, Wog Lorden was already
forgiven. And forgiven she remained, even though no
more was heard from her in fulfilment of her promise
to account for her behaviour. For, indeed. Bill's little
glimpse of the scene at the dinner-table as he had left
the restaurant was all the explanation that he needed.
As long as there had been any danger of her Frank
wishing to quarrel with her, the original host was to be

288 BILL THE BACHELOR

kept in attendance as a preventative ; but once this risk
had been safely passed, then the sooner he took himself
off the better. All right, Wog. In the clear light of
this sunny morning, there will be no further objections
from Bill Eraser. If one can't be a little selfish at
twenty-two, or whatever it is you are, when can one be ?

So Bill's spirit hovered ovjer the Crillon during the
next few days, breathing the very best of hymeneal
wishes for Wog and her pop-eyed swain, but his body
took care to avoid the neighbourhood of the Place de
la Concorde, for it seemed to him that his part in this
particular romance had now been played. And no
further unexpected assaults on his ribs or ankles came
to interrupt his devious wanderings through the Paris
streets.

At the beginning of September the inscrutable Pilbrow
made another of his sudden descents on the Rue d'Uz^s,
and once more Bill spent a busy day going into every
detail of the agency's affairs with him. Pilbrow's cross-
examination was as keen and penetrating as ever, but
he had an unusual air of pre-occupation, and several
times sat frowning in silence at the answers which he
received, pursing his lips and wrinkling his high fore-
head. All this was so unlike his customary manner,
that Bill felt justified at length in asking him if anything
were wrong.

" Wrong ? " repeated Pilbrow. " No, nothing's

wrong. But " He waited for a moment, and then

suddenly added : *' If you really want to know what
the matter is, I've had a bit of a disagreement with the
governor."

" Do you mean Mr. Girling ? "

Pilbrow's mouth twitched more violently than ever at
the mention of this forbidden name.

" Yes," he said. " And what frightens me now is that
I'm not sure I didn't get my own way."

Bill could quite appreciate the alarming elements in
this admission.

" Did you, though ? " he asked, " I don't wonder
that you're nervous."

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 289

Pilbrow gave an uneasy smile.

" Look here," he continued suddenly. " I want you
to know that whatever happens, I'm doing my best for
you and Lucas. Don't forget that."

" I'm sure you are," said Bill. " But what is it that's
going to happen ? "

" I don't know. Nothing, very likely."

And with this amount of explanation Bill had to be
content, for nothing further could the inscrutable one
be prevailed upon to say. In fact, at this point, as if
by changing the subject to prevent any further question-
ing, he unexpectedly began offering details of what he
described as one of the governor's little gambles. Bill
listened, at first with impatience and then with a de-
tached kind of interest, to the story of the Santa Caterina
silver mine, but it was only after Pilbrow had been talk-
ing for some time that he realised that he was being
pressed to adventure his hard-earned savings by doing
what was represented to him as " coming in on the
ground floor."

" But my dear old fellow," he said. " I know all
about that kind of thing. Do you know that I've had a
ticket in a Derby sweepstake for the last nineteen years,
and that I've never drawn a horse yet ? What's the
use of a man with that kind of luck meddling in silver
mines ? "

" Well, if it's good enough for the governor," Pilbrow
protested, " it ought to be good enough for you."

" I don't see that. If I keep out of it, I haven't a
shadow of doubt that Mr. Girling will clean up another
fortune. Why should I come along and spoil his luck
for him ? "

" But it's the nearest thing to a certainty there's ever
been."

" All right," said Bill, in final desperation. " Show
me the gilt-edged prospectus and the plate-sunk scrip.
I'll put in a fiver, if it's only to keep you quiet. But I
think the promoters ought to be warned."

" A fiver's no good," said Pilbrow in scorn. " They're
only issuing five-hundred-dollar units."

240 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Then I'm afraid I shall have to stand out," said Bill ;
and this, in the end, was what he did. Pilbtow con-
tinued to paint the most glowing pictures of the fortune
which was thus being flung on one side, but it was no use.

" I don't say that seven thousand per cent, isn't a
fair return on one's money in these hard times," Bill
admitted, " but, honestly, I'd sooner keep out of it."

" Oh, all right, then," said Pilbrow sulkily, and at
last the subject was dropped. But it was only when he
was alone again that night that Bill realised how com-
pletely the argument about the silver mine had driven
out of his head the story of Pilbrow's disagreement
with Mr. Girling. And once again his nameless fears
and suspicions, which had for so long been dormant,
kept him company through the small hours. If only,
he felt, he could get hold of things the right way round,
this conversation with Pilbrow must have helped to
throw some kind of light on the game which Osman
Girling was playing. But though he thought and
thought, no kind of enlightenment came to him, and in
the end he fell asleep. In the morning Pilbrow's
manner had resumed its ordinary calm, and during the
remaining three or four days of his stay in Paris, he
made no further reference of any kind either to the
governor or to the governor's gamble. Bill's half-
formed suspicions began to die away again. Pilbrow's
training in Mr. Girling' s office had probably given him
unusual ideas as to the amount of money which more
normally-situated people were prepared to risk on these
outside chances ; and as for the disagreement, why
should that have anything to do with the Agence
Lemaitre ? Bill turned his attention to counting up
the remaining days which separated him from his
approaching holiday.

More and more slowly they seemed to drag themselves
by, but their movement was just perceptible to the naked
eye, and in the end the morning did actually arrive
when, instead of taking his daily walk across the river,
he ordered a taxi and drove to the Gare du Nord. The
long stretch up the Rue de La Fayette was accomplished

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 241

with not more than five narrow escapes from sudden
death, and here he was at last, safely seated in a train
full of returning holiday-makers, more glad than any of
them, after his four months' exile, to be on the way
home. So exhilarated, indeed, did he become, that he
accepted the advances of an Anglo-Indian gentleman
who shared his compartment, with the result that he
was still hearing the story of his life when they reached
Victoria. There was scarcely any limit to the confi-
dences which were thus thrust on him, for the Anglo-
Indian gentleman disclosed the secrets not only of his
own digestion, but also of those of his two wives, both
of whom Bill learnt, %vithout surprise, were dead.
Almost the last words of this entertaining companion,
before the train finally drew to a standstill, were em-
ployed to press Bill to dine with him at his club any
night that he might care to select. But in the very
middle of one of his sentences, the spirit of London
reached in through the carriage window and seized him.
Bill saw him stiffen. " Good heavens ! " he could be
seen thinking to himself. " Have I been asking a
stranger to dine with me ? What on earth can I have
been thinking of ? " And so completely had the Anglo-
Indian gentleman already resumed his status as a
Londoner, that he dashed from the still-moving train
and hurried off into the crowd without even bidding his
discarded guest good-bye.

In another moment Bill had spotted his partner's
spectacles gleaming in the lamplight, and presently
they were driving together towards the flat, through
the most delightfully welcoming mixture of fog and
rain. Surely it was worth having put up with all those
months of clear skies to be returning at last in such
splendidly national weather. Bill drew the poisonous
vapours deep into his lungs, while his whole being
glowed with patriotism. Was there anything in the
world to beat Victoria Street on a wet night ?

Once again he was climbing the perpendicular stair-
case to his old home, and receiving Mrs. Whalley's
kindly comments on the alleged sickliness of his appear-

0

242 BILL THE BACHELOR

ance. In the excitement of their reunion she became
almost motherly, and seldom had Bill disliked her less.
Yes, when all was said and done, and whatever else he
might find to begin worrying about in the morning, it
was rather fun to be back at the flat again, if only for
one evening.

" Now, then, George," he said, as they settled down
in the sitting-room, " tell me all the news. Have we
got old Stromberg's stuff shipped yet ? "

" The last lot will go off this week," said George, and
he proceeded to execute one of his well-known fantasias
on the splendid way in which everything was going.
There had actually been signs of a revival of business
with Stockholm, and what with this and M. Thibaud's
efficiency, for which no words were too high, and the
French orders which were coming along for the autumn,
he honestly thought that things had never looked brighter.

" You'll see," he said ; "by next spring we'll be able
to buy old Pilbrow out again, and then that'll be the
end of Girling, and we shall be on our legs at last.
What's that ? Oh, do leave the exchange alone for a
minute. It's bound to be better by then."

" And how's the queerness at Leicester getting
along ? " asked Bill.

" Everjrthing's perfectly normal. I saw old Ledbury
about a fortnight ago, and he was as pleasant as any-
thing. You know, I'm beginning to think that we
came in for the tail of some kind of storm last spring ;
but whatever it was, it's all blown over by now. I've
been watching some of those people's shares. They
were jumping about like anything three months ago, but
they're steady enough now. You can depend on it,
that's what it was."

" You've not seen Mr. Girling, I suppose ? "

" No. But I saw the other blighter the same time
that I saw Ledbury."

" Who ? Sir Donald Hammersmith ? "

" Yes. He's a director right enough. They've got
his name on their notepaper now. But he seemed
quite harmless and pleasant,"

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 248

" I wonder if we'll ever get to the bottom of it," said
Bill.

" I don't think we shall. In fact, I've come to the
conclusion that all Girling ever wanted was to prevent
any kind of crisis cropping up last May. He might
have had plenty of good reasons for that, and there's
no doubt that if Lemaitre had gone smash, some of the
people over here would have felt the draught a bit."

Bill shook his head.

" That won't explain why he wanted us to give the
order to Peter Miller's," he said.

" I think it does," George answered. " I think he
wanted to bolster them up too. He probably found
some other way of doing it after we'd cleared out."

" But why all the secrecy ? "

" That was just Girling. He probably can't help
doing things like that."

" I suppose you didn't get any change out of Pilbrow,
when he was over here, did you ? " Bill asked.

" No," said George. " He wouldn't talk about any-
thing except some rotten silver mine that he wanted
me to take a block of shares in."

"And did you?"

" No, I told him I couldn't afford it. He seemed
rather annoyed about it. And now, look here, Bill.
I've made up mv mind about something."

"What's that?" asked Bill.

" I'm not going to let you go back to Paris."

" But, my dear old fellow, I must."

" No, you mustn't. I'm going instead."

"But "

"No, Bill. It's all settled. It's been perfectly
obvious the whole time that you've hated being away,
and I think it's jolly good of you to have stuck it. Well,
you've had four months of it, and I'm going to take my
turn now."

" But " Bill again protested, and was again

interrupted.

" No. I've really thought this out. It's the only
sensible way of doing things ; but even if it wasn't, it's

244 BILL THE BACHELOR

going to be done. So you can just make up your mind
to it."

" But what's the point, when I'm out of touch here
and you're not? "

" That's exactly what my point is. We can't have
you getting out of touch. And I don't want to get out
of touch with Paris either. It isn't a question of any-
body being unselfish, it's just plain common sense.
We've got to take it in turns."

What was Bill to say ? He certainly had hated being
in Paris, but he would have hated being anywhere else
just as much. And the arrangement was sensible
enough in itself ; he quite saw that. Besides, if Leslie
were to be in Scotland for another month, it wouldn't
particularly matter where he was."

" Well, we needn't make up our minds to-night," he
said, at length.

" You needn't," answered George, " if you don't want
to. But mine's been made up for some time. I'll see
you again in London next week, and after that I'm
moving across to the Rue d'Uzes."

" Well, we'll talk about it again, if you like, when I
get back from Maurice's," said Bill ; and then, seeing
that his partner would have continued to argue, he
added hastily : " Now then, I want to hear all about
the cricket I've missed."

George's eyes instantly began to shine with a different,
but no less fanatical expression.

" All right," he said. " Where shall I begin ? "

" Begin at the beginning."

" Well," said George, " the whole trouble with county
cricket this season has been . . ."

By the time that he had dealt with this preliminary
point, it had become clear that it would be waste of
time for Bill to spend the rest of the night at an hotel,
and the discussion on cricket was abandoned, to give
place to a further tremendous argument as to who was
going to sleep in the one bed. George took the view
that the flat (if you could call it a flat) was Bill's flat,
and the bed, consequently, Bill's bed. And Bill,

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 245

though he accepted this major premise, held that it
gave him the right to sleep anywhere in the establish-
ment that he chose, and announced that as a matter of
preference and of fact he was going to sleep on the sofa.
In the end he had his way. Muttering and grumbling,
George withdrew to the bedroom, leaving his partner
in exhausted possession of the field of battle. And
here, in a slowly-dispersing mist of pipe smoke, we leave
him to dream of trains and steamers and silver mines
and Anglo-Indians and the French exchange, and once
to wake with a start on learning from some ghostly
informant that Sir Donald Hammersmith has taken
up his residence at the White House.

The weather, which had made such special efforts to
provide a suitable welcome for the returning traveller,
was no less kind in following this up with a week of
September sunshine. Maurice's temporary residence
contained a parched tennis-court and was within a very
short distance of the golf-course, and every morning a
prolonged debate took place as to which of these sports
should be indulged in after lunch, and every afternoon
the problem was solved by Maurice saying that he
thought on the whole it would be good for Beatrix to
have a run in the car. Not that Beatrix ever came —
except once, on the afternoon of the picnic — for she
had a strange mistrust of her husband's powers as a
chauffeur, and preferred to spend her time in the garden ;
looking. Bill thought, everything that a mother should,
as she sewed and knitted and sent out occasional gentle
jcalls to Sylvia, where she was giving her dolls their
endless, Barmecide's tea.

It wasn't so much that Maurice was a reckless driver ;
but he was certainly a very unlucky one. Nobody's
tyres can ever have exploded, their radiator have leaked,
their petrol have mysteriously evaporated or their
carburettor have attracted dead flies to its inmost parts
in the way that Maurice's did. And it was a relief to
Bill to find that the crumpled mudguards, whose omin-

U6 BILL THE BACHELOR

ous appearance had filled him with alarm when he had
first seen them waiting for him outside the station,
had reached this condition entirely through his brother's
attempts to get in and out of the shed which did duty
for a garage. Even at the picnic, where the whole
distance to be travelled was less than two miles each
way, disaster overtook this unhappy vehicle ; for a
wandering policeman had suddenl^^ appeared on a
bicycle and insisted on its removal from the place where
it was waiting to the grass at the side of the road. In
his haste to avoid the penalties for obstructing the high-
way with which the policeman was threatening him,
Maurice had backed his beloved car right over the grass
into a ditch on the further side, where its back wheels
ceased to engage with anything except slime and nettles,
and from which it had to be rescued with the utmost
ignominy and at considerable expense by a couple of
farm horses. Beatrix's happy laughter throughout the
whole of this episode would have furnished complete
proof to any one who might have required it of the
success of her marriage. For Maurice had been dis-
appointed, but not in the least annoyed. His extra-
ordinary confidence, which Bill would have given so
much to share, remained absolutely intact, and every
evening as they separated for bed, he would say : " Now,
about to-morrow. What do you say to a really long
drive somewhere ? "

In fact, in so far as a holiday should consist of a con-
tinual uncertainty as to where one will be and what one
will find oneself doing at any time within the next
twenty-four hours, Maurice's holiday, in which Bill
now took up his part, was being a complete success,
Beatrix's catering, too, although conducted according
to her in the face of superhuman difliculties, was a
revelation and a dream after those months of monotony
in the Paris hotel ; while Sylvia had developed a new
gift of telling, instead of merely listening to stories,
which made her in Bill's eyes more fascinating than
ever. Sylvia's romances were entirely devoted to the
lives of her dolls, whose complicated relationship dis-

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 24ff

closed the most lamentable laxness in their morals.
One could never have believed, if she had not insisted
that it was so, that that anaemic beauty with the
movable eyes was married to a pink bear, or that the
bear was godmother (no, not godfather) to a celluloid
postman, grandfather, in turn, of the original beauty.
But with such material, any novelist will see at once
what strikingly original plots were available. One
really wondered that these creatures could be content
to spend so much of their time seated round the same
tea-table.

Maurice showed no awkward curiosity as to the history
of Bill's Paris venture. The moment never arrived
when Osman Girling's name had to be altered or sup-
pressed. It was Beatrix who took the opportunity of
Maurice's absence at the telephone one evening to ask
her brother-in-law how he was getting on.

" Oh, we're getting on splendidly," said Bill. " I've
been kept rather hard at it, you know ; but after all,
there's no particular harm in that."

" I'm so glad, Bill. Do you know, I always used to
think it was rather a mistake your going into the City,
but it only shows how wrong I was."

" Mistake ? " said Bill. " Why ? "

" I don't know. But one always imagines that City
people ought to be more pushing. Like the people in
advertisements ; with jaws, you know," she explained
elliptically.

" Well, dash it all, Beatrix, my jaw's all right. You
talk as if I was like the Chinless Man."

" But you don't push yourself very much, Bill. Do
you ? "

" I don't trample on people's faces particularly," Bill
admitted. " I don't suppose you'd think very much of
me if I did."

" I say. Bill."

" Yes ? "

" Why don't you get married ? "

" But why should I ? " he asked, looking out of the
window.

248 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Everybody ought to get married," said Beatrix,
with calm certainty. " Anybody who doesn't is just
wasting their time."

" You say that just because "

" No, I don't, Bill. I say it because it's true."

" Married people " Bill began sententiously, and

then stopped. He found that he had suddenly forgotten
what he was going to say.

"Bill," said Beatrix. "I wish you'd tell me. I
wouldn't tell a soul, you know."

" Yes, you would," said Bill unguardedly. " You'd
tell Maurice." He had remembered the conspiracy
about the recordership.

" Then there is somebody ? " cried Beatrix in
triumph.

" No, there isn't," Bill lied. And then he added
weakly : " Besides it's quite out of the question, any-
how ; and, Beatrix, it's really no good talking about it.
Really it isn't."

" I knew all the time why you'd gone to live abroad,"
said Beatrix coolly, as she snapped the thread of her
sewing.

" You knew ? " said Bill in horror.

" Yes. And I think it was very silly of you, if you
ask me."

Bill certainly hadn't asked her. But one couldn't
leave the thing in the air like this.

" Why ' silly ' ? " he enquired.

" Well, I should think it very silly, if anyone ran
away from me."

" But you don't understand," said Bill. " It wouldn't
make any difference to — I mean, it wouldn't make any
difference in this case."

" Then why do it ? " asked Beatrix.

This was certainly a new point of view. Bill consid-
ered it for a moment, and then he said :

" I didn't want to make an ass of myself."

" Oh," said Beatrix, and she had the cunning to leave
it at that. The result was inevitable.

" You see, you don't know who it is," said Bill. " How

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 249

can you possibly say anything, if you don't know who
it is?"

" Perhaps I don't," said Beatrix, with still more
diabolical craftiness. Bill smelt the trap, though he
couldn't quite see where it was. He plunged away.

" And anyhow," he said, " I'm not going back to
Paris until next year. George is going to take a turn
out there."

It was the first time that he had admitted it, even to
himself. But as he spoke, he realised that he had
meant to do it all along.

Beatrix held up a needle to the light, and prepared to
thread it.

" I'm glad of that," she said. She made another bad
shot at the eye of the needle, and then went on. " Did
Maurice tell you," she asked, " that we'd met Lord
Longwood and Leslie Grahame out at dinner while you
were away ? "

Bill nearly jumped out of his chair. But Beatrix
was still engrossed with her needle. That was lucky,
wasn't it ? If he said something quickly, she wouldn't
notice.

" Yes, he did mention it," he managed to answer.
And then, with really despicable weakness, he added :
" Why ? "

*'I thought she was so extraordinarily nice," said
Beatrix. " And so extraordinarily lovely."

He was glad that she hadn't said " pretty " or " good-
looking " or " handsome." There was only the one,
exactly right word for Leslie.

" Did you ? " he asked incautiously.

Beatrix transferred her eyes from the threaded needle
to her sewing, without once looking at Bill. But you
are making a great mistake, if you think that the
slightest detail of his expression had escaped her.

" Yes," she said. " And she seemed so fond of you.
Bill."

This was too much. What right had Beatrix got to
go playing with him in this way ? Hadn't she got any
heart ? Yet one must make some kind of answer, or

MO BILL THE BACHELOR

the whole show would be given away for good
and all.

" That's funny," said Bill.

God knows where the funniness came in. If Leslie
thought that everybody was as nice as she was, she
could hardly help being fond of him. And of everybody
else too. Damn them !

Beatrix looked up suddenly from her work.

" Why should it be funny. Bill ? " she asked.

Bill swallowed a nervous cough. It really wasn't
fair to have people down to stay with you, and than
rag them like this. If Beatrix meant anj^hing, why
on earth couldn't she say it, instead of sitting there
staring at one in that way ?

" Well, I mean to say," he began, " I only meant — I
mean — that ..."

There was a rattle at the door-handle. Maurice was
coming back. He was saved !

" ... I think that's Maurice," he finished lamely.

" It says here," Maurice began, without waiting to
discover whether he were interrupting anybody or not,
" that these new Spraggett cars do twenty-five to the
gallon, and the fellow went all the way to Rome and back
on the same oil. I'd like to have a look at one of
those."

" Would you, darling ? " asked Beatrix kindly. " Did
you get through to London all right ? "

" Oh, dash," said Maurice. " I forgot all about it.
And it took three hours last time. I'll ask Ada to put
through a call first thing in the morning. I say. Bill,
what do you say to a real long day in the car to-morrow ?
Beatrix is coming ; aren't you, darling ? "

" No, thank you," said Beatrix. " The last long day
we spent in the car, we were in a garage all the time."

Maurice looked a little pained. He didn't realise
that he was being punished for coming into the room
when he wasn't wanted.

" Well, what do you say ? " he asked, turning again
to Bill. " I had an idea just now, when I was looking
at the maps, that we might go over and see the White

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 251

House. It's only forty-seven miles. It would be rather
fun, don't you think ? "

" Yes," said Beatrix, before Bill could answer. " And
you might telegraph and ask yourselves to lunch with
Lord Longwood. That's a splendid idea, because the
cook's going to see her aunt at Margate. At least," she
added, with some doubt, " she says it's her aunt."

"Then that's what we'll do," said Maurice. " We'U
obviously get no lunch, if we stay here."

" But I think they're in Scotland," said Bill, avoiding
Beatrix's eye.

" Scotland ? " she repeated. " Are you sure. Bill ? "

" Practically," he answered, still looking towards his
brother.

" Well, that doesn't make any difference," said
Maurice. " We'll lunch at Maidstone or somewhere on
the way, and we'll have tea at the Hare Arms. Eh ? "

Well, one couldn't say that one didn't want to go
and see the White House except by oneself, or with
Leslie. One couldn't have said this, even if Beatrix
hadn't suddenly become so infernally inquisitive. More-
over, the chances were about a thousand to one against
Maurice ever reaching any destination for which he
set out.

" All right," said Bill. " Let's do that, then."

He flattered himself that he had said it rather well.

" And if any one should happen to be at Hare Hall,"
Beatrix persisted, " I expect they'd think it rather
polite."

" Oh, dashed polite," said Maurice cheerfully, thereby
earning his brother's deepest gratitude. " Have another
cigar, Bill ? "

" No, thank you," said Bill, and immediately had the
feeling that Beatrix would attribute this refusal to his
lovesick condition. He shot a quick glance at her, but
she was deep in her sewing. After all, he hadn't told
her anything really, had he ? One mustn't let it get
on one's nerves.

" Now I'm going to read aloud to you," Maurice
announced.

252 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Not out of the Autocar, darling ? " asked Beatrix
anxiously.

" No, no. Of course not. I'm going on with that
infernal book."

It would be, perhaps, unkind to disclose the actual
title of the volume of reminiscences to which Maurice
was referring. He had bought it at the beginning of the
long vacation, and Beatrix, though she had never told
him, had finished it in one evening. But whenever he
was feeling particularly domestic, he would take it up
and continue reading from it aloud, and she appreciated
the spirit which lay behind this unpleasant habit so
much, that she had never offered the faintest opposition.
Besides, except when Maurice interrupted himself,
which he was rather apt to do, to say that the author
was a blanked idiot or a dashed liar, it was so very easy
to go on with one's sewing and think about babies.
And it was so very nice to have one's husband sitting
there in the drawing-room, so blamelessly employed, and
so good-looking, too, when he got angry with the book.

" Some ghastly fool " Maurice began suddenly,

and then checked himself. " Oh, no. I beg your
pardon. I tliought some one had lost the book-marker.
I say. Bill, where are you going ? "

"It's all right," said Bill apologetically. " I'm only
going to get my pipe."

"Oh. All right."

One wonders if any of the other furnished houses in
the neighbourhood could have presented a picture one
half so innocent as this quiet interior during the follow-
ing hour. The dutiful wife, the good-natured husband,
and the thoughtful brother-in-law ; what an attractive
group, what an example to the bridge-players at the
bungalow next door, what an encouragement to the
author of the reminiscences !

And wasn't it lucky that in no possible circumstances
could any of the three ever be called upon to say what
that particular chapter was about ? For the nearest
that Maurice ever came to discovering that the book-
marker had been moved — by Beatrix, quite accident-

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 258

ally, when showing the illustrations to Sylvia — was when
he broke off to say :

" How this brute does repeat himself ! "

The telephone call to London had been completed by
half-past ten the following morning.

" What I can't make out," said Maurice, emerging
from under the stairs with rather a red neck, " is whose
head this instrument is supposed to fit. There's a thing
like an ear-trumpet in there, and you're supposed to
shout into one end and listen at the other, and all the
time you have to squeeze a little bar in the handle.
But when I've got the thing on my ear, the other end is
nowhere near my mouth ; and when I'm speaking, the
ear-bit is somewhere round the back of my collar. I
think it must have been invented by the Siamese twins."

" Are j'^ou going for your drive, darling ? " asked
Beatrix, making no attempt to solve the problem of the
telephone.

" Oh, yes. Rather. Come along, Bill. Put your
pipe away. You can't smoke in the garage."

Bill obediently knocked out his half-finished morning
smoke, and followed his brother to the shed at the side
of the house.

" As Beatrix isn't looking," said Maurice, " I think
we'll wheel it out. I don't want to do more damage to
these doors than I can help."

To carry out this manoeuvre meant, as Bill immediately
discovered, that Maurice sat at the steering-wheel,
while he went round to the back and pushed.

" Half a minute," Maurice called over his shoulder a
little later. " I forgot to take the brake off. That's
better."

The car emerged into the open without further
injury.

Maurice then filled the radiator until the water
splashed over the top, and the tank until the petrol
poured over the edge of the funnel. The blue haze
in which the whole scene was enveloped as he started

254 BILL THE BACHELOR

the engine, seemed to indicate that he had been equally
liberal with the oil at some very recent period.

" Now, then," he said. " You'll hold the maps and
tell me which way to go. We start by Canterbury.
By the way, have you got any money ? "

" I've got two or three pounds," said Bill.

" Well, I've got a fiver, so we ought to be all right.
Do you mind getting my coat out of the hall ? The
dirty one, I mean."

There could be no questioning the accuracy of this
description. Bill thought, as he unhooked the garment
from the row of pegs.

" Are you going off now ? " asked Beatrix through
the open door of the drawing-room.

" Yes," said Bill. " Is there anything we can get
you in Canterbury ? "

" You'll never get as far as that," said Beatrix calmly.
" But you might send me a telegram if you're not
coming back to-night. Have you got plenty of
money ? "

" Oh, yes," said Bill.

" Well, good luck. Tell Maurice not to come past
the front door. It only makes me nervous."

" All right."

He returned to the odorous fog in the middle of which
Maurice and the car were palpitating.

" Do you mind opening the gate ? " Maurice shouted.
" And perhaps you could shut it after me again ? "

Bill was beginning to realise that his duties as passenger
on this journey might be by no means light.

" Beatrix says you're to go out by the side gate," he
shouted back.

" Oh, all right."

There was a horrible grinding noise, and the car shot
out of the fog, through the side gate and across the road,
where it stopped as suddenly as it had started.

" Just give the engine a swing. There's a good
fellow," said Maurice.

" Will you promise me it's not in gear ? " asked Bill
cautiously.

FOUR MONTHS ET.APSE 255

*' Well, it isn't now, anyway," answered Maurice to
the accompaniment of further clanking sounds.

Bill started the engine again and took his seat by his
brother.

" Well ? " he asked presently.

" Very tricky reverse," muttered Maurice, straining
and struggling with some obstinate piece of mechanism.

There was another agonising screech from the gear-
box, and the car darted back again through the side
gate and was brought to a standstill within a foot of
the garage doors. However, this time the engine had
survived the shock, and at his second exit Maurice
succeeded in turning in the direction of Canterbury
without further mishap. Bill unfolded the first of the
maps and prepared to offer advice at any doubtful corners.

For once it seemed that Beatrix's forebodings were
not to be fulfilled. The twelve miles to Canterbury
were accomplished without accident, and almost with-
out incident. Maurice had, it was true, an uncomfort-
able habit of driving always on the wrong side of the
road except when he was going to pass another vehicle,
and if the speedometer had not been broken it would
have registered an unusually variable rate of progress,
but on the whole Bill found his confidence growing.
The weather was absolutely perfect, and the trail of
azure smell which they left in their wake was a matter
which could only affect other travellers.

But on the further side of Canterbury there can be
no doubt that they took the wrong turning. A section
of road under repair neutralised the benefit of the map
by driving them into uncharted by-ways, and the local
sign-posts seemed all to be in that state of repainting
when the old lettering has been covered with a coat of
white and the new lettering is still waiting for this coat
to dry.

" Hullo," said Maurice suddenly. " This can't be
Maidstone already. Let's ask that fellow where we
are. I'll slow down and you can shout."

Bill did as he was requested.

" The man says it's Ashford," he reported.

256 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Ashford ? " said Maurice, looking a little puzzled.
" I thought that was in Lancashire."

*' Aren't you thinking of Ashton ? " Bill suggested.

" Perhaps I am. Can you see it on the map ? "

" Yes, here it is. We'd better go through it now.
After that it looks like a good road again."

" What's the time ? " asked Maurice.

" A quarter past twelve."

" On we go, then," said Maurice, and at these words
the engine again stopped.

" Shall I get out ? " asked Bill.

" Don't bother. The self-starter will probably work
now she's hot."

But in the end, after sundry gasps and buzzings from
under the bonnet, Bill had to do as he had offered.

At ten minutes to one they passed through Charing,
and at a quarter to two they sighted Maidstone. Maurice,
whose nerve seemed to have been affected by their
experiences outside Ashford, had insisted on stopping
to ask the way four times, and the last time from a
pedlar, who had taken advantage of the encounter to
sell them a broom made of feathers.

" Beatrix will probably find it jolly useful," he said.
" You might hold it for me. I'm afraid it will fall out
of the dickey, if we put it there." And with this pennant
flapping over Bill's shoulder, they had continued their
journey.

At the Bell Hotel in Maidstone they got out and had
lunch.

" I must ask Beatrix why she never gives me pickles,"
was Maurice's only comment on the food. " Don't let
me forget."

" Perhaps we could send her a telegram about it ? "
Bill suggested.

" That's an idea," said Maurice. " But perhaps we'd
better not. They telephone them up from the post
office, and Ada mightn't understand."

At three o'clock, when they were preparing to get
once more under way, it was discovered that one of
the front tyres had mysteriously subsided, and it was

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 257

another half hour before they finally left the town.
But from now on Bill was quite certain of the route,
and at twenty minutes past four even Maurice admitted
that he knew where he was.

" We'll have a look at the house first, and have tea
afterwards," he said. " By Jove, how it all comes back
to one. Do you suppose the people will let us go in,
if we tell them we used to live there ? "

" There wasn't a caretaker when I was down here
in May," said Bill. He felt a strange reluctance to
disclose his knowledge about the window over the porch.

" Well, hop out and open the gate," said Maurice.
" I'll leave the car in the drive, and we'll see what we
can."

Bill hopped out, taking the feather broom with him,
and Maurice brought the car up to the front door and
switched off the engine.

" Now, then," he said. " Come along."

Together they made their way round the house,
peering in at any unshuttered windows, and Bill wondered
again why he found it quite impossible to mention the
secret entrance which he had used last time. " Of
course," he told himself, " if anybody caught us inside
when Lord Longwood was away, it might take a bit of
explaining." Yet he knew that this wasn't the real
reason.

" I must say," said Maurice, " that they've kept it all
up jolly well. If Leslie's going to get married, she won't
have to wait to get into it. Eh ? "

If the feather-broom had been the battle-axe which
Bill for a moment wished it was, this utterance of
Maurice's would have been his last. But he pulled
himself together.

" Oh, yes," he said. " I mean, no."
_. " Let's go into the kitchen-garden," suggested Maurice^
leading the way.

They made the circuit of the old, red-brick walls,
helping themselves to a few nuts on the way, and then,
just as Bill was closing the green-painted door again,
something soft was pressed into his leg.

R

258 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Good liOrd ! " he heard Maurice saying. " Where
did that come from ? "

And looking down, he saw Alfonso, the black spaniel,
flapping his tail violently from side to side and breathing
heavily at his ankles. Bill's ankles, I mean.

" Good old boy," said Maurice, whereat Alfonso
uttered a muffled and husky growl. " I believe he knows
you, Bill. Have you met him before ? "

" Yes," Said Bill, into whose mind this apparition
had brought sudden and as yet indigestible ideas.
" He's Leslie's dog. But I can't think what "

A sound on the gravel path beyond the angle of the
garden wall made him break off. " Look out, Maurice,"
he said sharply. " There's somebody coming."

" The law of trespass " Maurice began, and then

he too stopped. Round the corner had come Lord
Longwood, his arm linked in that of his only daughter.

" Why, it's Bill ! " said Leslie, and her voice went
through Bill's soul like oxygen and champagne and
Armistice Day all rolled into one. " And Maurice.
What on earth are you two doing ? "

" Eh ? " said Lord Longwood, beginning to blink.

" We motored over from Sandwich," Bill explained.
" I thought you were in Scotland."

" I thought you were in Paris," said Leslie. " Come
back and have some tea." She disengaged her arm from
her father's. " Papa, you haven't forgotten Bill and
Maurice, have you ? "

" Eh ? " said Lord Longwood again. " No, no.
Of course not. Of course not."

It wasn't so much that his welcome was cold, for he
smiled pleasantly enough as he spoke. But, to Bill at
any rate, he gave the impression that his old-remembered
air of pre-occupation was no longer the affectation which
it had been, but the real thing. He seemed an older
and a much tireder man. Perhaps the abandonment
of the visit to Scotland had been due to illness. Only
if this were so, it must have been very recent, or
Leslie would surely have mentioned it in her last
letter.

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 259

" Are you quite certain we won't be in the way ? "
Bill asked.

" Of course not," said Leslie. " Stop to dinner if you
like. And, Bill, do you mind my asking ? What
exactly is the broom for ? "

" We bought it for Beatrix," said Maurice. " But,"
he added generously, " I'll give it to you, if you'd like it."

" No, thanks most frightfully," said Leslie. " It was
only curiosity that made me ask. Come along, Papa,
we'll go back across the fields. You'd better take the
car round to our yard," she added, turning to the brothers
Eraser. " And then come straight through on to the
terrace."

" Right you are," said Maurice. He didn't ask, as Bill
feared he might be going to do, to be let into the White
House. Indeed, he seemed to have forgotten all about
it, for he drove off again without once looking back.
And getting down to fasten the gate behind them, Bill
had his last look at it by himself.

" I say," said Maurice, as the car moved off again,
" it's lucky Beatrix isn't here."

Bill had been ungallant enough to have the same
thought, but Maurice's reason couldn't be the same as his.

" Why ? " he asked.

" I should have got in the devil of a row for wearing
this old coat," Maurice explained. " We'd better not
tell her I had it on."

" All right," said Bill ; but he was thinking : " Why
have I known all day that I was going to meet her ?
Can one really feel people's presence all those miles
away ? Why did she happen to be in the garden of the
White House just at that moment ? Somebody, or
something, must have meant this to happen. I wish to
God I knew why."

And as they turned into the gates of Hare Hall, he
added to himself :

" Beatrix was quite right. It was silly to run away.
But what am I going to do, what can I do, now that
I'm back again ? "

" By Jove ! " shouted Maurice, " Look at those

260 BILL THE BACHELOR

hard courts. I wish we'd brought our racquets. I'd
have shown you all something. I wonder if we could
get a wash anywhere ? "

They left the car in the deserted stable-yard, and made
their way back again to the front door. The butler
was standing in the hall and seemed to have been warned
of their arrival, and with his assistance some of the dirt
which they had acquired in changing the tyre at Maid-
stone was removed.

" How did you think the old man was looking ? "
asked Maurice in a hoarse whisper, as they went through
towards the garden door. " If you ask me, he's breaking
up."

" Look out, you idiot," said Bill hastily, for Lord
Longwood could be seen standing just outside.

They had tea by the corner of the Pergola ; a rich,
country-house tea, to which both the brothers Eraser
did more than justice. Lord Longwood confined himself
to a cigar, and seemed in a more than usually inattentive
mood ; always coming in at the tail-end of any con-
versation and having to have things repeated to him.
Leslie seemed to be watching him rather anxiously,
and there was a little scene between them because he
wouldn't eat anything. Maurice was full of boastfulness
at having covered the best part of sixty miles without a
serious mishap, and dragged the talk round to motors
and motoring as often as there seemed any prospect of
its turning elsewhere.

" Beatrix will be as sick as anything that she didn't
come with us," he said cheerfully.

" You will both stay to dinner, won't you ? " said
Leslie, as tea was at last being cleared away. " You
can get back in a couple of hours easily, if you go the
right way."

Bill would have accepted like a shot, but it was
Maurice's car and Maurice's day out, and Maurice it
was who answered :

" It's awfully good of you. But I swore I'd get back
to dinner if I could. Perhaps we could come over again
some other time ? "

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 261

" Yes, do," said Leslie. But what use was this to
Bill, whose holiday would be over in two more days ?

" I wonder," said Lord Longwood, addressing Maurice
suddenly, " if you could spare a minute or two to come
and look at something in my study ? "

" Oh, Papa, you know you promised not to think about
business to-day," Leslie broke in. " Can't you wait
until Mr. Harvey comes back ? "

Bill looked at her quickly, and, catching her eye,
looked away again.

" I'm sorry, my dear," said Lord Longwood, " but I
want Maurice's opinion on something. If he can let
me have it, it may save me going up to London."

" Oh, rather. Of course," said Maurice, with com-
plete disregard of professional etiquette. " Anything
in the legal line, and I'm your man."

Leslie lifted her hand in a last, anxious protest, but
Lord Longwood was already moving towards the house^
and Maurice had risen to follow him. She let it fall
back on her lap again.

" Bill," she said, as the others finally disappeared.
" Tell me. What do you think about Papa ? "

" Do you mean how do I think he's looking ? "

Leslie nodded.

" I'm afraid he doesn't look as well as he did in the
Spring," said Bill guardedly.

Leslie turned a face to him, which for the moment
seemed almost haggard.

" It doesn't suit him," she said. " All this extra
worry and responsibility. I had everything planned to
get him a good holiday in Scotland, but at the last mo-
ment he let me down. He's not got the strength to do
all that he's been doing."

" These committees, you mean ? "

" Oh, the committees are only a little bit of it. It's
all the other things. He simply wonH let himself rest."

" But can't other people — I mean, couldn't Harvey
. . .?"

" Harvey ? " Leslie repeated. " No, don't you see,
it's Mr. Harvey who's made him take all this work on.

2^2 BILL THE BACHELOR

And he's working ten times as hard as Papa all the time.

Only " She stopped, and then suddenly stood up.

" Let's go a little way up the hill," she added.

Bill rose to his feet, and they began moving towards
the path which led to the highest part of the garden.
For perhaps three or four minutes they walked in silence.
And then :

" But, look here, Leslie," he said ; "if you're really
anxious about your father, can't you make Harvey
drop some of these things ? "

" I've tried," said Leslie.

" And you mean to say ? " The idea of any one

daring to refuse her requests seemed to Bill inconceiv-
able.

Leslie shook her head.

" He's a very unusual kind of man, Bill," she said.
" Why," she added, " you ought to know that. It was
you who sent him here."

" But, Leslie, I didn't send him here to worry you —
or your father," he added quickly. "If I'd thought

that was going to happen, I'd never have Look

here," he went on suddenly, " I'm going to tell you
something about him. I dare say I ought to have said
it before, but it was only a kind of suspicion, and when
once Lord Longwood had taken him on, it seemed —
well, it seemed so out of the question to come along with
what one couldn't prove. And it might have been so
unfair, if he was really helping your father."

" I suppose you mean about Colonel Baxter ? " asked
Leslie quietly.

" What ? Good Lord ! you don't mean to say ? "

" My dear Bill, he boasts about it. He's shown us all
the newspaper cuttings. But what difference does that
make ? I can't tell people that my father is being run
by his own private secretary ; and if Papa won't get
rid of him, what can be done ? Besides, you don't
understand it all even yet. Mr. Harvey really likes
us. He won't touch a penny of all the extra money
that he's made for Papa already. He's not impertinent,
or unkind, or inconsiderate, or "

FOUR MONTHS ELAPSE 268

" But he called you ' Leslie,' " Bill broke in, before
he could stop himself.

" Who told you that ? "

*' Wog Lorden, when I met her in Paris."

" Then Wog's a liar," said LesUe incisively, and
immediately added : " No, she isn't, Bill. I oughtn't
to have said that. But — oh, I can't explain. You'd
think me such a fool. Bill, are you going back to Paris
again ? "

" No. George is going out instead."

" And how much more holiday have you got ? "

" I have to go back the day after to-morrow," said
Bill, puzzled by the new drift of her questions, and still
angry with himself for his unforgivable interruption.

" Let's sit down," said Leslie ; and they sat on the
wooden bench from which one had the view all over
the Hare Hall estate, and could now see the sun sparkling
in the distant windows of the White House.

" Bill, why did you go to Paris ? "

She wasn't looking at him as she asked this question.
If only she had been, what, he wondered too late, might
he not have answered ?

" I told you," he said. " George and I bought a
business out there, and one of us had to stay and run it."

" You never told me at that dance," said Leslie, still
staring at the view.

" But nothing was settled then," Bill tried to explain.

" And you'll be going back again later on ? "

" Yes, in the Spring."

" You wouldn't rather stay ? "

Bill gripped the edge of the seat to steady himself.

" It isn't a question of what I'd like," he said, with
an attempt at laughter. " It's my job."

" Yes," said Leslie.

There was a little pause.

" You don't look awfully happy. Bill," she began
presently. " Would you tell me, if there were anything
wrong ? "

Alternative answers hung poised on a knife-edge for
the space of perhaps a second. One made up of words,

264 BILL THE BACHELOR

and the other the simplest but the most impossible
action. Yet impossible only because of those horrible
Rules. Before he realised it, the words had won.

" I always look miserable," he said, with a lightness
which amazed him even as he spoke. " It doesn't mean
anything at all."

" Oh," said Leslie, and somehow or other they had
got up, and were moving down the grass path again.

" I expect Maurice will be waiting for you," she said
presently.

" Oh, yes," answered Bill, with black misery in his
heart. " I expect he will."

And as a matter of fact Lord Longwood and his tem-
porary legal adviser came out on the terrace just as the
others reached it.

" Hullo," said Maurice. " I think we ought to be
getting along. Are you ready ? "

" Yes," said Bill ; and as he spoke he was suddenly
conscious that Leslie was slipping into the house behind
his back.

" Well, thanks ever so much for the tea," said Maurice,
turning to his host. " Don't you bother to come with
us. We'll find our way out all right."

" You'll have a cigar ? " suggested Lord Longwood.

" No, thanks very much. I can't keep 'em out of
my eyes, when I'm driving."

" BiU ? A cigar ? "

" No, thanks awfully."

" Where's Leslie ? " asked Maurice.

" I think she went indoors," said Bill.

Lord Longwood raised his voice.

" LesUe ! " he caUed.

" Oh, don't bother," said Maurice. " She's probably
in the hall. We'll say good-bye as we go through."

They shook hands with Lord Longwood and entered
the house.

But Leslie wasn't in the hall. Nor was she in the
yard, as Bill had still a faint hope that she might be.
Maurice cranked up the engine and took his seat.

" Coming, Bill ? " he asked. " Got the broom ? "

Bill joined him in silence, and with the customary

POUR MONTHS ELAl>Sfi 265

grinding and groaning the car began to move. They
went down the drive without passing the front door,
and picked up speed in the lane outside.

" We ought to be back by eight," said Maurice.

" Oh, yes. I should think so."

" I say," Maurice went on. " I really think old
Longwood is cracking up, or something. He got me
into his room and fished out a lot of papers, and then
whenever I began asking him what he wanted, he started
talking about something else. Jumping about all the
time. Asking questions and not listening to the answers.
Finally he put all the papers away and thanked me very
much, and we came out again. I felt rather an ass."

" Do you mean he didn't really ask your advice at all ? "

" No," said Maurice. " He seemed to want to, but
he kept on funking it. Dashed funny."

They drove without speaking for a couple of hundred
yards, and then, just as they were spurting up the little
rise into the main road so as to avoid changing speed, a
two-seater appeared without warning round the corner.
If Maurice hadn't, as usual, been on the wrong side of
the road, he must have met it practically end on. As
it was, he clapped on the brakes and skidded to a stand-
still, with his back wheels on the edge of the ditch.

" Look out, sir," he shouted angrily. " Why the
devil didn't you sound your horn ? "

The other driver had slowed down and was looking
back over his shoulder.

" Sorry," he shouted, and then his eye lit on Bill.

" Hullo," he called. " Back again ? Sorry I can't
wait." And with these words he let in his clutch and
sped away down the hill.

" What the dickens did he mean by that ? " asked
Maurice, staring after the retreating two-seater. " Did
you know him ? "

" Yes," said Bill. " That's Lord Longwood's secre-
tary. You know, the one that wrote to you."

" Is it, though ? I hope he breaks his dashed neck,"
said Maurice with some heat.

" He might do worse," said Bill, still gazing down the
empty road. " Shall I start her up again ? "

266 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Oh, thanks, old chap. If you wouldn't mind."
They were on the top of the big hill beyond Maidstone
before either of them spoke again, and then Maurice
suddenly asked :

" By the way, what was Leslie talking to you about ? "
" Oh, nothing," said Bill. " Just anything."
*' Funny her not saying good-bye," said Maurice.
Bill pretended he hadn't heard.

" I say it was funny she never said good-bye," re-
peated Maurice loudly.
Bill's self-control snapped.
" Oh, damned funny," he shouted.

This, I suppose, is where the chapter should really
end ; leaving it to the reader's imagination to fill in
Maurice's surprised enquiry and Bill's hasty apology,
which he realised, even as he uttered it, would be used
as evidence against him by Beatrix, however little it
might suggest to her husband. But with night coming
on fast, it hardly seems fair to leave these unskilful
motorists on the top of a windy upland in the middle of
Kent, with more than twenty-five miles still separating
them from home. An epilogue or postscript is there-
fore added setting forth how, switching on the engine
again after coasting down the hill into Canterbury (a
practice for which the School of Motoring disclaims all
responsibility), Maurice had the unusual and unfortunate
experience of blowing the silencer right off the end of the
exhaust in one almighty explosion. And how, with a
noise like a battery of maxim guns, they struggled to
the nearest garage — not, unhappily, without yielding
their names and addresses to a policeman on the way,
and from this haven of refuge returned at length in a
Ford taxi, reaching Sandwich at twenty minutes past
nme.

Beatrix's comment, when they had finished the story
of their wanderings, is also, perhaps, worth recording.

" Well," she said, addressing her brother-in-law, " I
think you might have taken more care of him."

VI
BILL V. FATE

Bill spent two or three nights at the Corinthian Club
while George was packing up and taking himself off,
and while Mrs. Whalley was indulging in an out-of-season
spring cleaning, and then hereturned once more to his
old quarters and to something approximating very
closely to his old existence ; five and a half days in
Pardon Court, and one and a half waiting for Monday
morning to come round again. So as not to disturb
M. Thibaud, he transferred himself to George's desk at
the office, but this was almost the greatest change in his
daily life ; since invoices and bills of lading and con-
signment notes continue to resemble each other pretty
closely whether they refer to Finland or to France.

The establishment at Sandwich moved back to Ken-
sington at the beginning of October, and the weekly
dinners at Maurice's house entered on a fresh season.
But Maurice in term time was a very different being
from Maurice on his holiday, and he was working himself
up into a state of nerves about Beatrix's baby which
had the effect of making him very argumentative about
Ireland. With every wish in the world to agree with
whatever view his brother chose to adopt. Bill found it
hard work keeping pace with the weekly changes which
were flung at him across the dining-room table, and more
than once he saw himself involved in an aimless wrangle
on some point about which he knew nothing and cared
still less. For Bill's own nerves were not always during
this period as reliable as might have been wished.

And Sylvia had started a nursery-governess, who had,
to everybody's annoyance, begun her fell work by deny-

267

26d BILL THE BACHELOR

ing the existence of Father Christmas. Bill found him-
self called upon to compete with an unseen rival, who
was slowly but surely undermining his niece's belief in
that extravagant autobiography. Sylvia was as affec-
tionate and adorable as ever, but it was a bit too much
when she took him to the nursery window and expected
to be told the names of the stars. Bill only knew the
Great Bear, and the beastly thing didn't seem to be
there at all that night.

" Miss Vickers says there isn't a man in the moon,"
Sylvia had told him kindly.

There were stray nights with friends at the Corinthian,
and stray Saturday afternoons in the billiard room, but
for the most part when he wasn't at his office, he was
sitting alone in his attic at Regency House, looking into
the fire, and wondering occasionally what he would be
feeling like now if he had been killed in the war. Some-
how or other the vision of the white-haired millionaire
which had helped him through many of his worst
moments in Paris had, since his further meeting with
Leslie, lost its effect.

Or sometimes he would go out for long walks after
dinner, starting generally with the idea that he was going
to a theatre, yet unconsciously making for the darker
streets, and finally returning dejected and exhausted
to his cold grate. The Thames Embankment saw much
of Bill Eraser during this time.

There was another nuisance, also, about being back
in London. Rules or no Rules, the fact had to be faced
that he no longer had the excuse for writing to Leslie
which had been given him by his residence abroad. One
couldn't concoct news about London for some one who
was living only twenty-five miles outside it ; and if one
didn't do this, what else was there left to do ? When
she came back again, he could, if he thought he was up
to it, go and call at Brook Street, but his night wander-
ings had told him that the house was still shut up, and
for all he knew they might be away until after Christmas.
Lots of people were.

And Beatrix was so infernally kind. He was fond

BILL 7'. FATE 269

of Beatrix, and particularly fond of her and sorry for her
when she was just going to have a baby ; but he always
had the uncomfortable feeling, whenever he saw her,
that she believed she was reading his thoughts. Heaven
knew what account of that afternoon visit to Hare Hall
she had extracted from Maurice, or with what feminine
deductions she had embellished it, but she had left off
talking to him about either marriage or Leslie. And
this tactful silence now made him long, with a perversity
which can perhaps be understood, to return to these
subjects himself. But never quite enough to take the
first step.

" Dear Leslie,^' he wrote, as perhaps the hundredth
variant on ninety-nine unposted letters, " / hope you
wonH think me an idiot, but I had a kind of feeling that
day at Hare Hall that I must have said something to annoy
you, and if I did, I do wish that you would either tell me
what it was or else say that you have forgotten. J expect
it was only my rotten imagination, or perhaps it was
because you were worried about your father and his health,
only not seeing you again to say good-bye made it difficult
to be sure. I am afraid perhaps you thought me un-
sympathetic or unhelpful, only it is all so difficult to
explain. But you ought to know "

What was it that she ought to know ? He stopped
and re-read what he had written from the beginning.

" No," he muttered. " That won't do either. One
can't say it in a letter. She'd only think I was trying
to interfere." And he tore the sheet of paper into
sixty-four fragments and dropped them into the fire.

" I believe it would have been better to go back to
Paris," he thought. " At any rate I could overwork
there."

George's letters certainly indicated no diminution
in the volume of their French business. He was already
talking about what they should do after next spring,
when they should easily be able to raise the money to
buy out Mr. Girling's nominee. Not, as he admitted,

270 BILL THE BACHELOR

that he didn't like old Pilbrow or didn't appreciate
what he had done for them ; but the fact remained that
he was only part of a general loan, and if they could
pay the rest of it off, there was no point in going on pay-
ing interest to a sleeping partner. " For that's what
he's going to become,'' George wrote. " He's only been
here one night since the middle of September, and he told
me then that he was so busy on other things that he didn't
know when he would be back again. If we want to take
another partner, I'm all for having some one like Barrett,
who is going to be there and do some work."

But George's ideas were soaring above private partner-
ships now. He wanted to choose the right moment and
amalgamate with some really big wholesale house, with
directorships for Bill and himself. That, according to
him, was the only game nowadays. It had been all
very well to plug along by themselves when there was
nothing else to be done, but he was over forty now, and
if one. didn'.t .take one's opportunities then, one couldn't
expect to have many more coming along. He added a
sketch of two very fat men lolling in a motor-car about
twice the length of a Rolls-Royce. " This," he had
written underneath it, " is what we ought to be looking
forward to now."

Bill smiled. It was so like the hard-working George
always to keep this vision of corpulence and sloth
flickering about five years ahead of him. Though the
motor was perhaps a little longer this time, and the
figures a shade more obese, this wasn't the first time
that he had drawn this picture of his prophetic ideal.
And it seemed hard to accept it as any more likely to
be realised on this occasion than it had during the hope-
less past. Unless the most amazing things happened,
by the time they had discharged their debt to Osman
Girling, they would be left with a bare margin of capital
on which to face uncertain markets and a fluctuating
exchange. But even if it were possible, even if the five
years could be knocked down to three or two, ought one
even to pretend that Leslie would not have been snapped
up long before then ? Or if she were not, was there

BILL V. FATE 271

any real reason to suppose that she would want to
marry an opulent Bill any more than she wanted to
marry the present uncertainly-situated one ? Knowing
that nothing could be settled before the spring, and that
he would be seeing George again much sooner than that,
he contented himself in his reply with criticising the
outline of the wheels in the prophetic sketch, which,
as he pointed out, would in their present condition
make riches a more than usually doubtful blessing.

Thus October drew to a close and November took its
place. Whatever it might be like among the Kentish
hills, in London fog penetrated the business man's
thorax and wet stickiness lay in wait for his feet. Shops
began to advertise in gothic characters, children began
to sing carols in quiet streets, magazines produced
double-numbers, newspapers printed callous photo-
graphs of turkeys, the Corinthian opened its annual
Servants' Fund, bearded managers of slate-clubs bought
razors, surveyors of Income-Tax awoke from their
summer lethargy. Pantomime artists revisited their
photographers, Winter Sports agencies circularised
schoolmasters, mistletoe shares soared and lemon-
squash shares slumped, gentlemen wrote to the Press
from outlj'ing portions of the provinces to say that the
appearance (or non-appearance) of certain berries on a
bush in their garden presaged the hardest (or the
mildest) winter for forty years ; and altogether there
was a prevailing if delusive air that, if something
wasn't done about it pretty quickly, Christmas would
be here at any moment.

Even Bill, insensitive as he was to many of these
phenomena, turned over a page of his diary one day
and found a printed slip exhorting him to place his
order immediately for next year's volume, and it was
at this moment that the idea entered his head of buying
a Christmas present for Leslie.

The first result of this determination was to direct his
evening wanderings to the neighbourhood of Bond
Street and Regent Street, in search of inspiration from

272 BILL THE BACHELOR

the windows of such shops as had not short-sightedly
closed their shutters. Articles of personal adornment,
to which his fancy naturally led him, were of course out
of the question ; it being a well-known fact that such
gifts are only permissible after the way has been paved
by (and suitable encouragement received in return for)
less suggestive and, generally speaking, more perishable
offerings. But one couldn't go out before the middle
of November and buy flowers or chocolates with any
hope that they would still be worth posting by the
twenty-fourth of the following month. And once the
idea had taken hold of him, he didn't want to wait.
He wanted to get the thing settled ; to have something
in a drawer at the flat which would be definitely biding
its time to go on to Leslie.

But the difficulties of the restrictions under which he
was making his search were very considerable. No
City shop, he was convinced, could contain anything
good .enough, for his purpose ; and his exploration of the
area between Piccadilly and Oxford Street, carried on
as it was between nine and ten o'clock at night, gave an
undue advantage to the windows which happened to be
opposite lamp-posts — not alM^ays necessarily the kind
of windows that he wanted. A few large establish-
ments, it is true, had followed the American practice
of keeping their lights on after they were closed, but
these had nothing to offer except sumptuously-dressed
wax figures, sitting in garish drawing-rooms, or standing
about uncomfortably on skis. For Bill's purpose they
were useless.

One dimly illuminated corner shop came to attract
him more and more. Everything in its windows was
so unmistakably a Christmas present. There were
super - dressing - cases, super - umbrellas, super - clocks,
super-photograph-frames and super-articles to which
it was impossible to give any definite name. The shop
itself had clearly abandoned the attempt, and had
ticketed them as " The Season's Novelties." And one
night there suddenly appeared the super-opera-glasses.

As soon as Bill's eye lit on these gorgeous toys, he

BILL V. FATE 278

knew that the end of his search had come. Though he
never used opera-glasses himself, he had noticed that
almost all women did. And these ones had the kind of
telescopic handle attached to them which looked so
particularly expensive when used from a theatre box.
There could be no doubt that this was exactly what he
had been looking for. Something that Leslie could
take about with her, that she would be holding in her
hand, looking through with her lovely eyes ; and yet
something which in no way overstepped the forbidden
line beyond which ordinary jewellery lay. Of course
it was too much to hope that no one else would ever
look through them. One could hardly make the gift
conditional on their never being passed along a row of
stalls. But whatever hands might subsequently dese-
crate them, the first two people to whose eyes they
were raised should be himself and Leslie. Quite clearly,
one would never find anything better than opera-
glasses.

He spent an anxious morning at the office on the
following day, fearing all the time that the little stock
might be exhausted before he could get back to Bond
Street, and at lunch time he forgot all about food and
hurried on to an omnibus. What on earth should he
do, if he were too late ? He fought his way through the
crowds on the pavements, skipping in and out of the
gutter and avoiding by a miracle the leads of the numer-
ous toy-dogs who were being taken out to look at the
hat-shops. And then, at the crossing just before his
final goal, he was held up while a procession of taxis
entered the main stream. But by craning his neck, he
could just see the window that he wanted. Thank
heaven, the opera-glasses were still there.

Inside the big stationers' there was a solemn calm.
A man in a frock-coat approached and gently inclined
his head to one side, with an air of enquiry.

" Opera-glasses," said Bill, still panting for breath.

The man in the frock-coat began walking away, and
Bill followed him. Across yards of thick carpet, down
three steps, and finally into an electrically-lit cavern in

274 BILL THE BACHELOR

which another man was leaning over a glass counter,
scribbling furiously in a ruled book.

" Opera-glasses," repeated the man in the frock-coat.
And he picked up a little chair and put it back again in
the same place, indicating by this action that if Bill had
the courage, he might sit down.

" Opera-glasses ? " asked the man behind the counter.

" Yes, please," said Bill.

The man turned and opened a drawer behind him.

" This sort of article ? " he enquired, placing a squat,
black object on the top of the counter.

Bill had forgotten for the moment that they might
keep other kinds.

" No, I mean those bright-looking ones with handles,"
he said. " Like the ones in the window."

" Oh," said the assistant. " For a lady, you mean ? "

Bill didn't say, " What the devil has that got to do
with you ? " but it is probable that he looked it. The
assistant, however, had again turned his back.

" This is the article you mean," he said, coming round
again. And before Bill could stop him, he had pulled
out the expanding handle and had raised the glasses to
his own, horrible, spectacled eyes.

"Yes, yes," said Bill hastily. He almost snatched
them away.

" We're selling a lot of these this Christmas," said the
assistant foolishly.

" Oh," said Bill. Did this mean that Leslie would
be getting six other pairs as well ? However, he hadn't
the nerve to retreat.

" I'll have these," he said.

The assistant scrutinised a small ticket which was
affixed to the glasses. In its efforts to keep secret from
its customers the prices of its goods, the shop seemed to
have fallen back on a cypher which was all but unintel-
ligible to its own staff. Bill's spirits rose. The man
must have been lying when he said he had sold such a lot.

Meanwhile the assistant had brought the ticket, and
consequently the glasses, to within an inch of his nose.
Bill's fingers itched to protect his purchase from this

BILL V. FATE 275

intolerable treatment, but with a great effort he restrained
himself. The assistant seemed to have come to a
decision.

*■ These are twelve guineas," he announced.
Dash it ! he hadn't thought they could possibly be
more than five, even in Bond Street. Not that Bill
would have grudged his last farthing on this gift, but
wasn't twelve guineas a bit too much like coming out
in the open with Leslie ?

But he had forgotten. Of course Leslie wouldn't
know the price. She probably wouldn't even think of
it.

" All right," he said. " Is there a case or any-
thing ? "

" There's a bag," said the assistant.
He produced the bag.

" Lined with silk," he added. And he put his beastly
hand into it and began turning it inside out. This time
Bill really did pull it away from him.
" Yes, yes. I see," he said.

And, strange to say, this rough action and impatient
speech had the effect of making the assistant address
him for the first and last time as " sir."

" Perhaps you would like something engraved on the
glasses, sir," he suggested.

Bill considered for a moment. But though he wanted
to give a good present, it wouldn't do to underline it
too much.

" No, thanks," he said finally.
" Account ? " asked the assistant.
" No," said Bill. " I'll pay for them now. And take
them with me," he added as an afterthought.

He began feeling for his cheque-book, but the assistant
had anticipated this need by pushing a pad of blank
cheques across the counter at him. He even handed him
his own fountain-pen, and then stood ready with a piece
of blotting-paper.

" Alexander Fraser," Bill wrote, and added his usual
flourish.

" Thenks," said the assistant. And taking up the

27(J BTIX THE BACHELOR

cheque, the opera-glasses, the bag and his original
account-book, he disappeared.

" Jolly convenient idea, those cheques," said Bill to
himself. " Saved me twopence, what's more." Business
man as he supposedly was, it didn't occur to him to
wonder what fraction of the shop's profit that twopence
represented. Very few of its customers ever did.

About four minutes later he became aware that a
discussion was proceeding in the background between
the man in the frock-coat and the assistant who had
served him, and that this conversation was being punctu-
ated by furtive glances in his direction. What on earth
were they talking about ? Why weren't they packing
up his parcel ?

Suddenly the assistant broke loose and came towards
him.

He offered some kind of observation, but his articula-
tion was very imperfect.

" What's that ? " asked Bill.

" Could I have your address ? " repeated the assistant.

" My address ? But I don't want you to send any-
thing."

" That's right," the assistant agreed. " But we make
it a rule when customers pay by cheque."

" Oh, do you ? " thought Bill. Then why hadn't
they said so before, when he was writing it ? Why had
they stood there pricing his clothes and arguing about
his possible solvency ? Rule, indeed ! He was over-
whelmed with a desire to fling out of the shop in a
dignified and paralysing fury. If he could in the heat of
the moment have called to mind the name of a single
one of their rivals, he would certainly have done so.
But to leave without planting this poisoned dart would
clearly be to admit defeat. And besides, how did one
stop a cheque when one didn't know the number ?

" Twenty-two, Regency House," he said coldly.

" Thenks," answered the assistant, and again de-
parted.

Ignorant as he must be of the vast distinction between
Number Twenty-two and any of the numbers below

BILL V. FATE 277

twenty, he was obviously impressed, and Bill enjoyed
a brief sensation of victory. But it was a hollow
triumph at the best. It should be oneself and not one's
address that should suggest the ability to meet cheques
for twelve guineas. He suddenly remembered Messrs.
Ibbs and Willingham. That fellow Harvey wouldn't
have tolerated anything of this sort. He would have
been more likely to take the goods away without paying
for them at all. Bill's thoughts remained in puzzled
contemplation of the difference between Harvey and
himself until his parcel was eventually brought to him,
and as he had come to find of late, once the subject of
Harvey had got into his head, it stayed there.

All afternoon he kept wondering what the trio at
Hare Hall were doing. What could Leslie have meant
that day when she had said that he would think her
such a fool ? Why should Harvey have been driving
back in such a hurry that he couldn't even wait to speak
to two people (one of whom, moreover, he knew) whose
lives he had as nearly as possible cut short ? What
was it that Lord Longwood had wanted to ask Maurice,
and why hadn't he asked it ?

When he got home that night he unpacked the opera-
glasses with the utmost possible care, untying every
knot in the string, and slowly unrolling the tissue paper
in which they were wiapped. His little sitting-room
was too small for any satisfactory test to be made of
their magnifying power, but he pulled the handle in and
out several times and adjusted the focus for imaginary
views from different parts of a theatre ; and then he sat
down at his writing-table and taking out one of his cards,
wrote on it, " With best wishes for Christmas.^'

After a considerable period of rumination, he crossed
out the engraved " Alexander," and substituted " Bill,"
and then, carefully as before, he replaced the tissue
paper and the cardboard box and the brown paper and
the string, and having done this, he locked the whole
parcel away in a drawer, and sat gazing into the fire.

278 BILL THE BACHELOR

2

The next morning the fog had returned. From the top
floor, of Regency House nothing could be seen except
yellowish vacancy, and from the street below came
distant shouts and muffled bumps as the traffic took
itself on and off the curb.

Bill had his breakfast by electric light, and his news-
paper still hadn't arrived when he left. He reached the
Underground station to find the crowd waiting four and
five deep all along the edge of the platform, but in this
weather there was no other possible means of reaching
the City, and he took his place in the coughing and
dripping mass. Train after train came in, packed appar-
ently to the roof, but the station officials continued to
shout encouragement to the waiting passengers, and
gradually yet just perceptibly their ranks began to thin.
Every time that a train drew away into the tunnel, it
seemed impossible that the line should not be found
sprinkled with mangled and electrocuted corpses, forced
through the further side of the carriages by the pressure
from the platform, but every time a miracle seemed to
have intervened to prevent this. And at each fresh
battle, the uniformed hustlers began again their inspirit-
ing yells : " Pass right up the cars, please. Plenty of
room further up the cars."

Followers of the science of auto-suggestion will realise
that it was the passengers who should really have been
uttering these Cries, but even as it was they were having
their eUect, and the moment at length arrived when Bill
also was crushed suddenly through a doorway and carried
away. For fifteen minutes he stood with his chin on
the brim of a stranger's hat, unable to move hand or
foot; but at the Mansion House the pressure was consider-
ably eased, and the blood was once more beginning to
move through his system by the time he reached his
own station.

Where the fog had before been^ yellow it was now
black, and a slow rain of mammoth^smuts was descend-
ing from above. But in the City every one hurries,
whether they can see where they are going or not, and

BILL u. FATE 279

in a few minutes Bill had reached the entrance to
Pardon Court. He looked into M. Thibaud's room,
but M. Thibaud had lodgings somewhere in South
London, and might be anywhere in this kind of weather.
He certainly wasn't at the office.

He sat down at his own desk and gathered his personal
correspondence towards him. Two or there calendars
there were — there had been two or three calendars every
day for the last week — a circular from an insurance office,
a sample of blotting-paper, and what looked like a real
letter. Who was it who could be writing real letters to
him at the office ? He slit the envelope open and glanced
at the signature. " Wog L" No address at the
beginning and no date. What did Wog L. want to write
to him about ? Hullo ! she was engaged. How nice of
her to write and tell him.

" Deaf Bill,'''' wrote Wog, " / want you to be one of the
first people to know that Vm going to marry Frank — you
know, the ane you met in Paris — because Vve always felt
rather a brute for turning you out that evening and never
telling you why — only I expect perhaps you guessed but
possibly you didn't.^'

Wog's general meaning was clearer than her construc-
tion. Bill took a deep breath, and went on.

"... you didn't. I am most terribly happy about it,
I never thought I could be happy again because you know
I was engaged once before^ and it isn't the same thing —
it couldn't be that, but Frank understands everything so
wonderfully and you mustn't think Vm not in love with
him either but it is difficult to explain and sometimes I
canH quite understand what has happened myself. Frank

said afterwards that he liked you awfully " (" Did he ? "

murmured Bill.) " and we are going to be married

in Jan or Feb so I do hope you will be there, because you
really helped things a lot by dining with me at the Crillon
that night though I expect you wonder how and Fm not
going to say. It will be in the Times on Tuesday probably

280 BILL THE BACHELOR

and we are going to be married in Jan or Feb — " (" You'v^e
said that once." ) " — and isn't it awful we may have to go
to India almost directly but I hope not but everybody can't
be in the City.

" Now Bill I want to tell you something. This is
something that I very nearly told you twice before but each
time I thought better of it because although one does things
with the very best intentions people don't always under-
stand— at least that's what I've found. Only now I'm
so happy I don't feel it could do any one any harm, and
after all if you see people doing something pointless and
think you can stop them, I don't see why you shoiddn't.
Do you remember my ringing you up at your office last
spring about my sponge? It wasn't really my sponge,
but I'd had a kind of row with Leslie, at least "

At this point Bill's eye made a violent effort to take
in the whole of the rest of the letter at one glance, but
Wog's style and handwriting defeated it. He went back
to where he had left off.

" . . . at least nobody could, have a row with her really ^
but she said I was mad and I called her several names too.
Do you remember that evening when she went to bed with
a headache ? It wasn't a headache really, it was rage with
me, and the rage was all because of you, because she had
said if ever she married anybody it would be somebody
like you, and I said all right I'd tell you, and she said she'd
never speak to me again, and then I suddenly knew she
didn't mean somebody like you but just you yourself.
And that was why I wanted you to give me lunch because
I thought if you did perhaps you would confide in me
and then I might have given you a hint. I jolly nearly
told you again in Paris because one's only got to look at
you when you said How's Leslie to know what's the
matter with you, but I didn't, but now I have. And what
I say is why should two people go on being stiff afid proud
just because one of them's got a lot of money ? Anyway
I've said it now and if you ever give me away then you
won't deserve anything and I shan't care what happens to

BILL I. FATE 281

yoa because I shall hate yov. But money is all rol—1
found that out long ago. When 1 was seventeen my father
died, and they found he^d lost every bob in the world and
I was passed about among my relations and they all thought
Poor Girl and wanted me to be a governess — at least Frank
didnH but all the others did, but Leslie had me to stay with
her, and she made them all slop talking about governesses
and we both did nursing instead and that was when I
first met Alan who was killed. I don't seem to have
explained about money properly, but what I mean is as
long as people are nice it doesn't matter which of them has it,
and though of course you're not a millionth part as nice as
Leslie still you can make her happy if you want to, and
I donH want to be the only one who's happy. So buck up
Bill, and go ahead and when you're married perhaps you
can sack Harvey and then we'll all have fearful fun to-
gether— that is if Frank doesn't have to go to India. You
must burn this letter at once — / haven't even told Frank
what I'm saying to you — and you mustn't ever mention it
to me again because I expect I shall wish I hadn't posted
it, only if everybody is going to go on being proud for ever
one might as well be dead.

*' Yours ever,

" Wog L."

For perhaps five minutes there was dead silence in the
little room in Pardon Court, while the light from the
lamp on the desk beat down on the pages of this letter,
and the stillness was reflected again in the fog-darkened
window. Then the reader suddenly laid it down, sat
back in his chair, and remarked aloud :

" But of course that's all rot."

It was a lucky thing, wasn't it, thought Bill, that Wog
should have let herself go like this to some one who
knew how to keep their head. And looking down, he
suddenly saw that his hand was trembling like a vibro-
massage machine. " I wonder why it's doing that,"
he thought. " I'm perfectly calm, really. I know that
girl means well, but of course I don't believe her. I

282 BILL THE BACHELOR

mean to say, it's absurd. I mean . . . Besides, it's
all very well," he concluded lamely and unintelligibly.

Yet look at it this way. Wouldn't it be better, after
all, to ask and be kicked out of the house, than to hang
about like this, doing nothing except buying opera-
glasses ? When everything was said and done, there
was nothing intentionally offensive about asking some
one to marry one. They mightn't want to do it ; that
was their affair, and of course they could jolly well
please themselves ; but that was no reason for getting
annoyed about it. Cats, as was well known, could look
at kings. And if people went about looking as lovely
and being as attractive as all that, then they must expect
to put up with slight inconveniences. One might put
it like that. One might say that one was awfully sorry
to be a nuisance, but one had stood as much as anyone
could be expected to stand for nearly six months, and_
had really given very little trouble to anybody all that
time, and that the point had just about come when one
might as well let oneself rip. And then one jolly well
would let oneself rip. And after that one could clear
out and take to drink or do anything else that one chose,
and nobody could blame one. Yes, Wog's letter, so he
told himself, made no difference. No difference at all.
The point was that it was six months since that first
visit to Hare Hall, and six months was just about long
enough.

Almost before he knew what he was doing he had
reached his decision. He would write to Leslie and say
would she lunch with him one day when she was up in
London. There seemed no reasonable ground for
imagining that she would refuse. And then, right at
the end of lunch, so as not to risk cutting the whole thing
short in the middle, he would let her have it. Meanwhile
the only thing to do was to use all one's strength of
mind to avoid thinking what would happen after that
lunch. And since there suddenly seemed to be no time
like the present, he would write that invitation at
once.

He took a sheet of notepaper from the drawer of his

BILL V. FATE 288

desk, glanced at his old friend the almanack for the
date, and began.

" Dear Leslie,'' he wrote.

Some one was knocking at the door.

" Oh, come in," he shouted.

The boy made his appearance.

" There's a telegram for you, sir," he said. " The
messenger says he's very sorry but it was delivered at
Garden Court last night by mistake."

This wasn't the first time that the Post Office had
played this trick, nor. Bill imagined, would it be the
last.

" Oh, all right," he said.

He snatched at the envelope and ripped it open.

" DonH on any account read letter I have just written
to you — Wog Lorden.'*

" Any answer, sir ? " asked the boy.

" No. No answer," said Bill automatically, and the
boy left the room.

Now what on earth did Wog mean by that ? He
hardly liked to ask himself whether he would have obeyed
the prohibition if the telegram had arrived in time, but
as it hadn't, what did it mean ? Had something hap-
pened to make her change her mind about it all, or was
it just the effect of the remorse which she had clearly
anticipated in her last paragraph ?

Or was there some hitch over her engagement ? Had
she chucked Frank, or had Frank chucked her ?

The Times ought to throw light on the last question,
anyhow, for to-day was Tuesday, and it was on Tuesday
that Wog's undated letter had said that her announce-
ment would appear.

He reached for the folded copy on the corner of his
desk, remembering as he did so that owing to the fog
he had so far missed the morning's news, and turned
to the Court page. Yes, here we were. " Forthcoming
Marriages." And the next moment horrible, paralysing
nausea had seized him.

J64 BILL THE BACHELOR

The column was headed :

*' Mr. a. W. Harvey and the
Hon. Leslie Grahame."

Bill's eyes followed the paragraph to the end, and still
continued to read because he never told them to stop.
" Mr. L. S. Crabbett and Miss D. Stuckley, Major W. E.
Ryan and Miss Monfries, Mr. G. Hunstable and Miss
Biddington-Woosley, Captain F. Carruthers, M.C., and
Miss Lorden "

So Wog was all right. She had only telegrajjhcd
because she had heard about Leslie.

He went up to the top, and began again. " The
engagement is announced between Mr. Austin Wallace
Harvey, only son of the late Mr. and Mrs. R. M. Harvey
of Surbiton, and the Hon. Leslie, only child of "

Damn it all ! he'd picked that brute out of the street
when he'd only got twelve and sixpence in the world,
and gone out of his way to get him this job. He'd done
it all himself !

And this was what Leslie had meant that last afternoon
that he had seen her.

But it was impossible. One of those well-dressed
cads from the Stewarts' dance, if you like ; but not
Austin Harvey. He must have bullied her into it.
She couldn't — she couldn't feel like that towards him.
There must be some other kind of explanation. Oh,
why had he gone on waiting and waiting, when all the
time that other fellow was there in the house, buying
her gramophone records, running the whole place, and
in the end — this ? If only Wog had written sooner,
he didn't care whether she were telling the truth or not,
but he'd have had a run for his money. Beatrix had
said it was silly to run away, and Beatrix had been
right. It was the damnedest, silliest thing that any-
one had ever done. His own, lovely Leslie engaged to
some one else. Before he could stop himself, something
seemed to be swelling up inside him and choking
him.

BILL V, FATE 285

" Here, steady on," he said out aloud. And at this
moment M. Thibaud opened the door and came into the
room.

Bill made a hasty, unconsidered movement to cover
up the Times.

"Hullo," he said, in a hoarse, strange voice.

" Your sacred climate," remarked M. Thibaud.
" Since three hours I have been in the train."

" What ? Oh, yes. There's a fog, isn't there ? "

" A fog ? " said M. Thibaud. " For example, there
is a fog."

" I'm awfully sorry," said Bill. Why couldn't he go
away ?

" And only the boy is here," continued M. Thibaud.
" No one opens the letters."

" Oh, haven't they ? I've only just come in myself,
I'm afraid. I "

A rending, overpowering sneeze interrupted the rest of
his sentence.

" You have a cold ? " asked M. Thibaud.

" I don't know," said Bill. And then, seizing at this
excuse for his manner, he added : " Yes, I think perhaps
I have."

" It is a bad cold," said M. Thibaud.

Bill sneezed again. Honestly, he hadn't meant to,
but he couldn't stop it.

"Yes," he decided. "And I think, if you don't
mind, now that you've turned up, I'll clear out." That
was the only thing to do. To get away somewhere. To
lose oneself, if possible, in this providential fog.

M. Thibaud stepped across the little room and exam-
ined his employer's face.

" You have the grippe," he announced.

"Very likely," said Bill. "I feel rotten. I— I
think I'il go home. I'll be all right in the morning."

" Unless it is the grippe," added M. Thibaud.

" Well, if it is, I'll ring vou up. I'm awfully sorry,
but "

" It is understood," said M. Thibaud. " It is nothing."

Bill sneezed for the third time.

286 BILL THE BACHELOR

" I shall be all right," he said. Perhaps he really
had caught a cold. The Underground these days was
enough to do in anybody.

M. Thibaud opened the door again.

" We must not both have the grippe," he said. " I
shall expect you to telephone."

" All right." He didn't care if he had small-pox, as
long as M. Thibaud cleared out.

" It is your sacred climate," said M. Thibaud again,
and closed the door. His voice could be heard outside,
attacking the guiltless boy for the non-arrival of the
rest of the staff.

■^Bill swept the Times on to the floor and rose to his
feet, and as he did so, he saw the beginning of his un-
finished letter to Leslie. Perhaps, after all, he'd better
get it over. It would have to be done sooner or later.
He sat down again.

" / have just seen your announcement in the Times,"
he wrote, " and I send you my very best wishes for the future.
One doesn't always see as much of people after they are
married as one would like to do, but in any case I hope
you are going to be most terribly happy and will always
have everything that you can possibly want.'*

His pen hovered for a moment in the air, and then he
suddenly added :

" / am sending you a little present down to Hare Hall,
and I hope perhaps you will like it. I shall never forget

What was it that he would never forget ? For a
moment he was on the point of tearing up the whole
letter, and then he saw a way of finishing it.

" / shall never forget what fun we used to have when you
were staying with your grandfather, and I like to think
that the White House will be being lived in again. Yours
ever. Bill Fraser.^'

BILL V. FATE 287

He found an envelope, addressed it and fastened it
up.

" Yes," he murmured. " I'll have to undo the parcel
again and change the card, and then I'll post it down
this afternoon. Dash it, I believe I have got a cold."
For as he rose to his feet for the second time, he suddenly
found himself shivering.

" Anyhow I've got an infernal headache," he added.
And putting on his hat and overcoat, and with his letter
grasped firmly in his hand, he staggered out into the fog.

Whether the germ which had taken possession of Bill
Fraser had begun its life in the Underground, or where-
ever else it may first have opened its eyes on this troubled
world, there can be no doubt that M. Thibaud had made
a very accurate shot at its identity. Bill had struggled
through the rest of the day with a growing burden of
aches and sneezes, had even found his way to the post
office and sent off his parcel ; but after a night of endless
and indescribable discomfort, Mrs. Whalley's first glance
at him made her telephone for the doctor.

" There's a very unusual type of influenza going about
this winter," the doctor had said — he and his colleagues
had said this every November for the last twenty years.
For one thing it was true, and for another, patients
seemed to like hearing it — " and you've certainly got
it."

" Oh," said Bill. " What have I got to do about it ? "

" Stay in bed till your temperature comes down,"
said the doctor ; " and then we'll see."

"All right," said Bill feebly. " Thanks very much.
Will my housekeeper catch it ? "

" I'll send you in a nurse, if you like," said the doctor.
But Mrs. Whalley wouldn't hear of a nurse, and some-
how or other she never did catch it. Possibly her
resistance had not been lowered by falling in love. For
six days she came in and out with beef -tea and bread -
and-milk, and sometimes the temperature went up and
sometimes it started coming down ; but it was not until

288 BIT.L THE BACHELOR

the seventh morning that the patient extracted the
thermometer from his heavily-bearded face and saw a gap
of nearly half an inch below the red star which marked
normal. It was borne in on him that, regrettable as
it might from many points of view be, he was not going
to die. Whether he were going to live seemed for
the moment another question, and one thought at a
time was quite enough for a brain which was floating
about in the air over the bed to the accompaniment of
an endless noise of rushing water. He turned over with
some difficulty and rang the bell.

" Mrs. Whalley," he said, with a faint sound of pride
in his voice, " I'm sub-normal."

"There!" said Mrs. Whalley. "Won't the doctor
be pleased ! "

Bill tried to picture the doctor's pleasure, but didn't
feel quite up to it.

" Are there any letters ? " he asked.

Mrs. Whalley looked a little alarmed. This talk of
letters had run unceasingly through the night when she
had had to telephone for the doctor again, and he had
come and given Mr. Eraser an injection. Yet he didn't
look delirious now.

"I'll go and see, sir," she said.

There had been letters of sorts most mornings, but
this time it seemed that Mr. Eraser had got what he
had been waiting for, for he gave a kind of gasp of relief
as he saw what she had brought him. But he didn't
open the letter. He only held it in his hand.

" I'll get your hot water, sir," said Mrs. Whalley.

Even after she had gone, he waited a moment with
the envelope still unopened. If this were going to be
the last letter that Leslie ever wrote to him, he didn't
want to hurry over it. But presently he tore it open
and began to read.

" Dear Bill,^^ Leslie had written, " Thank yon so very
much for your wonderful present, the first and only one
that I have had, and still more for your letter.''^

Then she had scratched something out. Scratched
it out with such violence that it was impossible, even

BILL V. FATE 289

by holding the paper up to the light, to guess what it
had been.

" I often think too of what fun we used to have in the
old days, before the war and everything else happened.
But you mustn't let this change mean that you disappear
again for all those years as you did last time. Pm not
going to have that. You're going to come to the White
House as often as ever you can. Leslie.'*

Bill let the letter fall on to the sheet.

" No, I'm not," he said. " No, I'm not. I'm nevei'
going back to the White House. I'll go back to Paris,
if you like, or anywhere else in the world ; but as for
the White House, if you've got to know, the biggest
mistake I ever made was in ever going back there at all."

He lay for a minute or two exhausted by the force of
this imtruthful outburst. And then some fresh thought
seemed to strike him, for he picked up the letter and
read it through again from end to end. He seemed to
be searching for something.

" At any rate she's not like Wog," he muttered.
" She's got the good taste not to keep on saying how
happy she is. But, my God! " he added with fresh
violence, " if she isn't happy, I'll go down there one day
when I'm feeling better, and I'll — I'll murder that good-
looking brute ! "

And with the utterance of this resolve, the execution
of which would so obviously secure the happiness of
everybody concerned, he turned over on his side, and in
three minutes was fast asleep.

The next day he got up for the first time, and per-
formed the agonising operation of removing a week's
growth of beard with a safety-razor ; and in the afternoon
he put on a dressing-gown and tottered into the sitting-
room, where he sat in front of the fire, feeling and looking
like an emaciated Guy Fawkes. This, he recalled, was
the stage of convalescence at which influenza-victims
were apt to drown themselves in their baths, throw-

290 BILL THE BACHELOR

themselves out of high windows, or put their heads in
gas-cookers. He wondered where they got the energy
from to do it. He would have liked to write and tell
Wog that he hadn't read her letter and that he was so glad
to have seen about her engagement in the Times, but this
would have to wait. He felt about as capable of holding
a pen as of lifting a sack of coals, and whenever Mrs.
Whalley came into the room and asked him how he was
feeling, he had the greatest difficulty in not bursting
into tears.

About five o'clock M. Thibaud arrived at the flat and
insisted on talking business for over half-an-hour, and
then was only driven out by the appearance of Maurice.

" Hullo, old chap," Maurice greeted his brother. " I
didn't come in before in case I caught Something. But
I hear you're all right again now."

" Yes," said Bill, weakly.

"Well, you don't look it," said Maurice, and Bill
wished he had said No.

" I'll be all right in a day or two," he muttered, his
eyes beginning to swim.

" Beatrix told me to bring you some grapes," Maurice
went on, " but I'm afraid I forgot."

"It's awfullv kind of vou," said Bill. "How is
Beatrix ? " "^

" Well, we're all rather on the jump. We've had
that nurse in the house for two days and nothing's
happened yet. Sylvia's gone to her grandmother's."

" Oh, yes."

" I suppose you saw about Leslie Grahame ? "
Maurice continued. " Was that the fellow who nearly
ran into us that day ? "

" Yes," said Bill.

" Well, I should think a lot of fellows would be gnash-
ing their teeth a bit," said Maurice. " I wonder what
Lord Longwood thinks about it. Has the man got
any money, do you know ? "

" I don't know," said Bill. He wished he could see
some way of changing the conversation, but his disease
had left him powerless to do even as much as this.

BILL V. FATE 291

" Beatrix has taken it into her head to be annoyed
about it," Maurice resumed. " But that's just like
Beatrix, bless her ! I suppose she'd picked out some-
body else for Leslie to marry. She's always doing that
with everybody she knows." He laughed.

" Oh, yes," said Bill.

" You can think yourself very lucky she hasn't tried
her hand on you," said Maurice. " Let me know when
she begins, and I'll come to the rescue."

" Thanks."

" What you want," said Maurice with extreme
heartiness, " is a jolly good week at the Metropole.
I know what these bad colds are like, but even a week-
end at Brighton would pull you up again."

" It wasn't a cold," protested Bill. " It was in-
fluenza."

" Oh, that's what everybody says," laughed Maurice.

*' But it was," said Bill, wriggling feebly in his chair.

" All right, old chap. Call it anything you like, as
long as it makes you happy."

Bill's voice died away in a tearful mutter.

" Well, look here," said Maurice, getting up ; "I
must dash off again. I'm awfully glad you're so much
better. Are you sure there's nothing else I can do for
you ? "

" No, thanks awfully. That is, I mean, you'll let me
know if — I mean, when — I mean, about Beatrix ? "

" Oh, of course," said Maurice. " I'll ring you up.
Well, buck up," he added, moving to the door. " You
take my tip, and go off to Brighton, and you'll be all
right in no time. I don't wonder you feel rotten, sitting
indoors over the fire like this."

Bill forced a smile on to his pallid countenance.

*' Oh, I'm all right," he said once more. " Thanks so
much for coming. And give my love to Beatrix."

" Right you are," said Maurice, and he took himself
off ; leaving the sitting-room door ajar.

Bill shut his eyes, and wished for the hundredth
time that day that he hadn't told Mrs. Whalley he
would stay up for dinner. Mrs. Whalley was jolly good

999 BILL THE BACHELOR

to one as long as one had a temperature, but with the
arrival of the first bottle of tonic, she always seemed to
lose interest. That reminded him. Time for another
dose.

He staggered to the table and mixed himself a bumper.

Filthy stuff!

He wondered what would happen if he drank the
whole bottle right off.

Nothing, probably.

Oh, Hell.

4

The following day he took a little gentle exercise
round the sitting-room table, found himself able to focus
his eyes on the newspapers, brought his diary up-to-date
by writing, " /// in bed " on seven pages, and " Got up
for first time " on the eighth, and by the afternoon
actually felt sufficiently interested in the world's future
to ring up the doctor and ask if he might go out.

" If it's very fine and warm," said the doctor, " you
may go out for half-an-hour to-morrow."

As it was now the middle of November, these con-
ditions seemed unlikely to be fulfilled, but as the doctor
had also told him to avoid all worry, Bill understood
that medical science only dealt with realities within
its own limited province. Unless it were actually
snowing, therefore, he would go and have lunch at the
Club. And on Monday he would go back to the office.
And until Monday, he would try, if it could possibly
be managed, not to think what he was going to do about
things after that.

At six o'clock Mrs. Whalley brought him in an evening
newspaper, and when he had read all about Ireland,
and Key Industries, and the end of the flat-racing
season, and an interview with London's Oldest Muffin-
Man, and City Chatter, and Football Forecasts, he
began on the advertisements. And thus it was that at
about twenty-five minutes past six, he came on the
following legend, which occupied a quarter of a column
next to the list of closing prices.

BILL V. FATE 298

PRELIMINARY ANNOUNCEMENT

BRITISH UNITED HOSIERY, LTD.

(Registered Capital— £5,000,000.)

The prospectus will be issued to-morrow
and will appear in the London and
Provincial Press of an issue of £3,000,000
preference and ordinary shares in the
above Company.

(Note : This preliminary announcement
is NOT a prospectus.)

For the first time for over a week the word Influenza
faded out of Bill's mind. Three million pounds !
There could be no mistake about it ; this meant a big
thing. Was it conceivable — as would almost appear —
that after all these years somebody had engineered the
big amalgamation which everyone had declared to be
impossible ? United Hosiery, it said. That certainly
suggested it. Yet why hadn't Thibaud said anything
when he had been here yesterday ? It seemed hardly
believable that a rumour of some kind should not have
reached him. But if it hadn't, it meant that the thing
was being run by somebody who knew their business
pretty well.

Yes, it must be an amalgamation. No new manu-
facturer or merchant was going to raise all that money
in these hard times, and no old ones could possibly
want it unless they were going to buy up their com-
petitors' businesses. Who could it be at the bottom
of it all ? Bill ran over in his mind the names of the
big men in the hosiery world, but there wasn't one
of them whom he could conceive as carrying such a
thing through. Hadn't the history of the whole industry
been competition ? England against Scotland, and the
individuals in each country against each other ? If this
announcement foreshadowed what he had assumed, some

294 BILL THE BACHELOR

new and unknown brain must have been working away
behind the scenes for months ; watching the markets,
giving dinners, issuing and obtaining promises, issuing
and disregarding threats, collecting proxies and making
all the other thousand and one preparations for the
moment when the public should be invited to come along
and subscribe to their own exploitation. For though
there might be price-cutting to start with, if such an
amalgamation went through, the real end would be
inevitable. And what about the foreign markets ?
What about the position of firms such as Fraser and
Company ? Where would they be, if the competition
between the big manufacturers came to an end ?

If only George were here to talk things over with.

If only A sudden idea, which but for his state of

health must surely have reached him before, came flash-
ing into Bill's mind. Sir Donald Hammersmith ! Sir
Donald Hammersmith and Osman Girling behind him.
What had these two mystery men been meddling with
hosiery for, if not in preparation for some such scheme
as this? Why, it bore Girling' s mark all over it. The
secrecy of the preliminary stages, the courage of choosing
the moment when wages were falling and dividends
were doubtful to come along with this colossal recon-
struction ; and then to fling it at the industry and the
public and by the very suddenness of it all to bluff them
into co-operating with him. Yes, but wait a minute.
How did this idea link up with his own share in the
thing ? What had Peter Miller's and the Agence
Lemaitre to do with these plans ? Forgetting all about
the feebleness of his limbs. Bill rose from his chair and
began tramping up and down the sitting-room. Every
now and then he seemed to be on the verge of seeing
light, but always at the last moment some fresh thought
came which couldn't be made to fit in. Supposing
George had been right, and the only explanation were
to be found in Girling' s wish to keep clear of crises until
he was ready ? Yes, but why bolster people up with his
own money, if he were going to come along six months
later and either buy them up or freeze them out ? Why

BILL V. FATE 295

not have let them alone to take their chance of sinking
or s%vimniing ?

He suddenly remembered something else. Wog's
reference at that dinner at the Crillon to Lord Long-
wood's plan for " selling hosiery." Was Lord Long-
wood, or his infernal secretary rather, in this new thing
as well ? If so, when had they come in ? Had Harvey
known all the time that Frasers' had been saved from
bankruptcy by that still incredible intervention from
one of the financial gods ? Must he believe now, after
all that he had gone through, that it had been Harvey's
influence that had puUed them out of that fearful hole ?
Payment, perhaps, for getting him that intioduction
to his present employer, who was also his present victim.
This was the worst thought that had come yet. To have
posed to Leslie like that as " lashing out " into fresh
fields of commercial enterprise, when all the time he
had been owing his very livelihood to Harvey ; even
the money that had gone to pay for those accursed
opera-glasses. No, he wouldn't believe it. He was
letting his imagination run away once more. Weren't
there at least fifty other possible explanations of that
quarter-column advertisement, if only he had the
strength to think them out ?

For strength of any description was what he suddenly
no longer had. A minute before he had been striding
up and down the room with a flush that might well
have been mistaken for one of health, but now he found
himself hurriedly clutching at the back of his arm-chair.

" By Jove," he murmured, as he sank into it over the
side ; " mustn't forget. . . . Been very ill. . . . Silly
ass. ..."

He sat there, panting, for a few minutes.

" No, no," he said to himself, presently. " This sort
of thing does no good. I'll see that prospectus in the
morning, and then, if I think it's going to hit us in any
way, I'll dash across and see old George." He gave a
shadow of a smile. " That ought to be as good as cutting
one's throat at Brighton, anyhow," he added.

By the time that Mrs. Whalley arrived to bump the

296 BILL THE BACHELOR

dinner-tray against the sitting-room door, there was
nothing left to show the excitement into which that
PreHminary Announcement (which was so emphatically
not a prospectus) had temporarily thrown him. He gave
up his mind to discussing with his housekeeper the
particular theatre to which she and her daughter should
be sent, as the customary rewaid for her recent labours
in the sick-room. The dialogue drifted imperceptibly
into a description by Mrs. Whalley of her daughter's
friend, who had been gassed in France, but, in spite of
this, wasn't steady.

" It's given him ideas," said Mrs. Whalley darkly.

" Ah, yes," said Bill, sagely and sympathetically.
And he thought, " This is the only kind of conversation
that I can ever look forward to now, I suppose. I wish
I weren't so dashed steady myself."

After dinner he played Patience in his arm-chair
until half-past nine, and then he went to bed.

And in the morning all thoughts of British United
Hosiery had gone from his mind. It was only after he
had finished breakfast, and was wondering if he yet felt
quite up to a pipe, that he turned to the City page of his
newspaper and, with the sight of the three-column
advertisement, suddenly remembered his agitation of
the night before.

" Ah ! " he said. And then, " Oh ! "

For the list of directors was headed with the name
of the Right Honourable Ix)rd Longwood, of Hare Hall,
Little Matchings, Kent, as Chairman. And among the
remaining six names, though they were all known to
him as being connected in one way or another with the
industry, he looked in vain for that of Sir Donald
Hammersmith.

Then this was Harvey's doing, and Harvey's doing
alone. The evidence might not be conclusive, but
could there be any real doubt of it ? And foi- a moment,
in spite of himself, his admiration went out to the mind
which could in six months have learnt and done enough
to launch this gigantic scheme.

For the first paragraph of the abridged prospectus

BILL V. FATE 297

left no question of the scale on' which the thing had been
planned. " The Company has been formed," it began,
" to acquire a controlling interest in the following well-
known firms, all manufacturers of high-class British
hosiery goods." And there followed the names of no less
than eight of the biggest businesses in the Midlands and
Scotland, including Harraways' (Leicester) Limited,
Brackett and Smith, Glendowrie Mills, Peter Miller
and Sons, Ledburys', and the New Century Manu-
facturing Company ; which last, as Bill well knew, had
its own multiple shops in every town in the Kingdom.
Below this paragraph came an inspiring record of
comparative profits from the year 1913, ingeniously
averaged into a heavily-leaded summary, and succeeded
by a forest of foot-notes explaining away (chiefly by
means of Excess Profits Duty) any individual lapses
from the general picture of constantly-increasing pros-
perity. But it needed no figures to tell anyone in
Bill's position that if these eight big firms had agreed
to pool their interests and management, only super-
human blundering could prevent the remaining manu-
facturers from either putting up their shutters or coming
into the combine on any terms which might be offered
to them. In one night, so far as the Public was con-
cerned, a complete Hosiery Trust had been born.

Slowly and carefully he read the whole thing through
from beginning to end, and nowhere did his intimate
knowledge of the conditions in the industry show him a
single real weakness or flaw. The subscription lists
were to remain open for four days, but he had no doubt
that the issue would have been over-subscribed in less
than two. Why, dash it all, with proper management —
and Harvey might be trusted to have seen to that — the
thing would beat Pilbrow's silver mine hollow.

And where did Messrs. Eraser and Company come in ?
Was there going to be any room for the small agents
when the new combine began screwing up its organisa-
tion ? Could George and he con\ince these hard-faced
directors — with Harvey sitting in the background —
that the Agencc Lemaitre was still wanted ; or would

298 BILL THE BACHELOR

the next thing be notices of termination of their agree-
ments with everybody inside the ring, and the establish-
ment of the ring's own wholesale house in Paris ? If
only old George were here.

Only if George wanted them to go on their hands and
knees to the Chairman of United Hosiery, what then ?

Well, whatever happened, he couldn't go on sitting
here. Doctor or no doctor, he must see Thibaud this
morning and then telegraph to George that he was
crossing to-night. The only mistake he'd made was
in not telegraphing as soon as he saw that preliminary
notice in the Evening Record. Heaven alone knew what
the end of it all was going to be, or what they could do
that would have any effect on it, but they must act
together ; and

There was a sudden sound of heavy footsteps in the
passage outside, a concussion, as from the dropping of
a heavy weight on the floor, and in at the sitting-room
door walked George Lucas himself.

" George ! " cried Bill. " What on earth ? "

" Are you all right ? " George broke in. " Good Lord,
what a fright you gave me ! I thought you were pegging
out, I "

" You thought what ? "

" When I got your telegram. I only just caught the
train. I hoped at first that you were better and that
it was business or something, but when I got to the office
and Thibaud told me you were still away, I can tell you
I But you are all right, aren't you ? "

" Yes, of course I am, but "

" Well, my dear old Bill, why didn't you say so ? "
George sank on to the sofa and began mopping his
forehead. " You don't know the fright you've given
me."

" But, look here. What do you mean about a tele-
gram ? I never sent you any telegram."

" You never " George stopped, gasping for

breath.

" No. I haven't sent you anything since I told you
I was down with influenza."

BILL V. FATE 299

*' Then somebody's gone mad," said George, helplessly.
" Just oblige me by looking at that."

He handed Bill a crumpled telegraph form, decorated
with strips of gummed paper. And on the lowest of
these was printed ;

" Come at once if you possibly can. BUI.''''

" Now, then," said George. " Do you mean to tell
me "

" I most certainly and absolutely do," said Bill. " I
haven't left this flat for over a week, I haven't sent a
telegram to anybody on earth for over a month, and
I've absolutely no more idea what this means or where
it came from than the man in the moon. Is that
clear ? "

George grinned.

*' That sounds pretty conclusive," he said. ** Then
who's made me an April fool in the middle of
November ? "

Bill shook his head. He still could hardly understand
what had happened.

" Well, but look here," George went on. " It's no
dashed joke, you know. It's knocked the stuffing out
of five pounds coming over here, let alone that I'd made
up my mind you were dying, and I'm jolly well going
to get to the bottom of it. I say, are you quite sure "

" Yes, of course I'm quite sure."

" But who could want me to come bundling over
here ? " George protested. And then, peering at his
partner, " I say, how are you really, though ? " he
added.

" Oh, I'm all right. I only got up the day before
yesterday. I was going out for the first time to-day."

" You look pretty ghastly," George admitted. " But,
look here. About this telegram. What am I to do ?
Take it up with the Post Office ? They'll never tell me
anything. I've never known such a silly trick," he
finished grumblingly.

" I'll see what I can make them do," said Bill. " But
I must say, it beats me. Whoever wrote that message
must have known a good deal about you and me. But

300 BILL THE BACHELOR

what did they want ? Just to annoy us both, or — or
to get you away from Paris ? "

" But why should they ? Barrett's still there. And
Pilbrow turned up two days ago. They can't play any
games with those two."

" Oh, Pilbrow's in Paris, is he ? "

" You mean you thought it might have been from
him ? "

" Well, you'll admit that he's a possibility."

" But he can't send a telegram from London if he's
in Paris," said George argumentatively. " Look there
at the top of the message. Do you suppose I'd have
come all this way, if that had been handed in in the next
street ? "

" No, I see. It can't have been Pilbrow."

" Of course it can't," said George. " Well, I suppose all
I can do now is to go back again."

He rose to his feet as if he meant to carry this deter-
mination into effect at once.

" Here, wait a minute," said Bill. *' I was just
going to send you a telegram, when you came in."

" You were going to do what ? " asked George, sitting
suddenly down again. " Treat me gently, Bill. Re-
member I've been travelling all night."

" I know you have, George. And I think it was an
infernal shame to worry you like that, and it was jolly
good of you to think I was dying. But have you seen
to-day's newspapers ? "

" Only a picture paper in the train. Why ? "

" Well, look at this, then," said Bill, and he handed
him the three-column announcement of the new issue.

" What's this ? " said George. " British United

Gosh ! Who's pulled this off ? Not Lord Longwood ?
Yes, it is. I say, Bill, our fortune's made."

" No, it isn't," said Bill.

" Yes, it is. He asked you down from Saturday to
Monday. He'd do anything for you. Don't you
remember my telling you to marry the daughter ? "

" The daughter's going to marry somebody else,"
said Bill. " And — and I wish you'd shut up."

BILL V. FATE 301

He turned quickly away and looked out of the window.
Not that he saw or wished to see anything there, but
he hadn't realised until he had said it out loud, quite
what hell it was to talk about it. And so he missed
the fleeting expressions of sympathy, remorse and self-
condemnation which were passing rapidly over George's
transparent face. When he turned round again, his
partner was absorbed, apparently, in the details of the
prospectus.

" Seriously, old chap," he said, looking up, " I'm glad
I came over. But if somebody wanted to give me the
tip, why did they put your name to the message ? "

" You don't think it could have been Osman Girling,
do you ? " asked Bill.

" What, the fairy god-mother ? That's an idea, isn't
it ? I say. Bill, I suppose you don't feel up to coming
back to the City with me ? No, of course you don't.
But I think I ought to go and hustle round a bit and
find out what I can about this. Do you mean to say
this is the first you've heaid of it ? "

" Absolutely. Of course I've been stuck indoors for
a week, but I've spoken to Thibaud practically every
day, and I'm quite certain he'd heard nothing."

" That's the way to do it," said George admiringly.
" Keep it all dark until you're ready. And then. Bang !
let 'em have it. The fellow who put this through is the
biggest man I've ever come across. Eh ? "

" Yes," said Bill. " And look here, when you've
finished hustling, come back and have lunch with me
at the Club. We've got to talk about this."

" Right you are. I'll leave my bag here, if that's all
right. About half-past one ? "

" Yes. I'll be there."

*' Au re voir, then," said the volatile George, leaping
to his feet again. " I'll bet that was Girling, and he
put your name because he couldn't bear to put his own.
I wouldn't have been out of London to-day for anything.
See you at lunch, then." And he was gone. Slam
went the front door of the flat, and Bill was alone again.

But could it have been Mr. Girling who had sent that

802 BILL THE BACHELOR

telegram, and, if so, why had he done it ? For the rest
of the morning Bill sat in his arm-chair, alternately
dreading he scarcely knew what, and hoping what he
could hardly describe. And once every quarter of an
hour he came round again to the same despairing thought.
*' What does it matter to me who makes his fortune
or who loses it over this business ? If it weren't for
old George, I'd chuck the whole show, and get a job
somewhere else. I've messed this thing up from the
beginning to the end. I'm sick of it."

At one o'clock he roused himself and put on his hat
and coat, and then, slowly and cautiously, made his
way down to the street. He felt as he imagined that
people of eighty or ninety must feel, but the devil of it
was that he wasn't even thirty. He hadn't thought
that day when he had realised it was his birthday
that within less than a year he would have discovered
and lost the only thing that made life worth living.
Our poor bachelor ! don't let us forget, when we see
him facing existence with this craven spirit, that he had
just arisen from one of the most debilitating diseases
that afflict humanity. He isn't really a coward, even
though he was drafted to Salonika, and had his leg
broken instead of chasing Bulgars.

At twenty-five minutes after one he tottered into the
Corinthian, and sank into a chair in the smoking-room ;
but it wasn't until nearly two that George arrived, and
it was clear at once from his face that he had picked up
nothing of any importance.

" I've seen old Thibaud," said George, " and I've
stood in a queue at Harraways' office for forty minutes
and given it up, and I've telephoned to half the people
I know in London. Everybody's surprised, everybody
says it's the biggest thing that's ever been done, but
nobody has the faintest idea what the ring's policy is
going to be. I've wired to Paris that I shall be stopping
on here, and here I'm going to stay until I can find out
how we stand. I don't see that I can do anything
else. Do you ? "

" No," said Bill. " Except have some lunch."

BILL V. FATE 808

" What ? Oh, yes, rather."

They moved through into the dining-room, fomid an
empty table, and Bill gave his order. But as soon as
this had been seen to, they returned inevitably to the
subject of the new issue.

" I suppose," said Bill, " that they'll get the money
subscribed all right. I wonder what would happen if
they didn't."

" Oh, of course they will," said George. " Lord Long-
wood's name is quite enough for that. Besides, as it
doesn't say it isn't underwTitten, you can be quite certain
that most of it is. After all, they'd never have got all
those firms together if the money hadn't been there
to be looked at."

" No, I suppose not."

" What's three million, after all ? " asked George
contemptuously. And he snapped his fingers, as if he
were in the habit of handing out such sums to crossing-
sweepers every day in his life. In fact the whole affair
seemed to have induced in him a kind of financial intoxi-
cation, under the stimulus of which he began mapping
out the lines on which the new directorate ought to
proceed. By the time that lunch was half finished, he
had taken in all the wholesale houses, signed agreements
with the manufacturers in all other countries and run
the price of hosiery well above the highest figures of
1919. Bill listened in envious admiration. What fun
it must be to go through life with George's kind of out-
look. To be able to work oneself up into these fevers of
excitement purely over the prospect of other people
becoming millionaires. He wondered if, when he had
reached George's age, he would have got like this too.
And from this his mind wandered away into a general
consideration of himself and his surroundings in fifteen
years from now. Sometimes, when the present is
intolerable and the immediate future looks even worse,
this is the only thing to do.

Meanwhile George was drawing a kind of genealogical
tree on the table-cloth with a fork, gradually fetching
in more and more branches of the textile industry, until

S04 BILL THE BACHELOR

he had got very nearly the whole world organised as a
vast machine for the manufacture and sale of its different
products. In another minute he would obviously be
getting on to the question of exports to Mars.

" It only wants a little imagination," he kept on say-
ing. " And the people who started this combine have
certainly got that."

" Well, I don't suppose they've got any more tb^n
you have," Bill suggested. " After all, you were saying
just now that three million pounds was nothing."

" No more it is."

" Well, you're right in one way. This particular
three millions means nothing to most people. That's
what you don't seem to realise. Look at all these fellows
here in the dining-room. They're not thumping the
tables and drawing pictures with their forks, just because
a set of sharks in the City are trying to borrow the price
of a quarter of a battleship. Look at all those people
mooning about in the streets. They don't look as if
they care particularly."

" Oh, if you're going to talk political economy,"
George began, turning automatically to follow Bill's
gaze through the dining-room window. But he left
his conditional clause unfinished. In the street below
them a newspaper motor- van had pulled up, and imme-
diately from all directions a cluster of street-sellers
had gathered round it, while the man beside the driver
ladled out bundles of the latest edition. The two
partners found themselves fascinated by the precision
with which the whole undisciplined-looking gang was
being given its supplies and sent running back to its
posts. In less than a minute, it seemed, the little crowd
was breaking up and the van was darting off again to
its next assignation.

" There," said Bill. " Do you suppose those men are
going to begin shouting about hosiery prices ? Not a
bit of it. Starting prices is all they care about. And

" Well, you're wrong," George broke in. "I can see
the word ' Hosiery ' on that fellow's placard now.

BILL V. FATE 305

What does it say ? I can't read the beastly-
thing."

Bill stood up and peered through the window. The
seller had turned his* back, and though he seemed to be
shouting something, the heavy plate-glass cut off the
sound of his voice.

" Wait a minute," he said. " I'll tell you when he
turns round. Ah, here he comes. Good Lord, what's
happened now ? Look at that ! Here, waiter ! Ask
one of the boys to get me the latest evening paper. Yes,
the Evening Record. As quick as he can. Thanks."

" He knows I'm blind," said George plaintively ^
" and yet he won't tell me. Bill, my dear Bill, what
did the placard say ? "

" ' Big Hosiery Failures,' " said Bill, still staring out
of the window.

" What ? "

" Yes. George, there's more going on over this thins
than we've guessed. Why are they shouting that all
over London to-day of all days ? Some one on the
Evening Record is trving to crab this issue."

" Oh, rot."

" Well, did you ever see a scare-line like that before ?
Who in this part of London gives a curse what businesses
go smash ? "

" Then it must be one of the firms who've been left
out. That won't hurt the issue."

" It won't do it any good," said Bill. " Here he
comes," he added. " Now we shall see."

" Sing it out," said George.

Bill had no need to hunt for the information. It was
splashed all over the front page.

" ' Grave Crisis in Big Industry,' " he read out.
" ' Failure of Two Great Hosiery Firms. Aftermath
of Inflation. Effect on To-day's New Issue.' "

" Yes, but which are the firms, Bill ? "

" ' The Evening Record learns,' " Bill read on, " ' that
the well-known business of Peter Miller and Sons of
Nottingham, who have been established as manufac-
turers of hosiery for nearly a hundred years, have sus-
u

806 BILL THE BACHELOR

pended business, and that application has been made
to the Court for a receiving order to be made against
them.' "

" Gosh," said George. " And those are the people
that Girling wanted us to give our order to. Go on."

" ' Interviewed by our correspondent this morning,
Mr. Ephraim Miller, the present managing director,
declined to make any statement.' "

*' That's a good interview. I'm sorry — go on."

" ' Messrs. Miller employ over three hundred hands,
and considerable anxiety is expressed in Nottingham
as to the prospects of work being found for these, since
local unemployment is already severe. It should be
noted that Messrs. Miller are one of the eight hosiery
manufacturing firms in respect of which British United
Hosiery Limited are issuing three million pounds' worth
of shares for the purpose of forming a new combine.
Opinion in the brokers' offices to-day is that this unex-
pected failure will seriously prejudice the prospects of
this flotation.' "

Bill stopped and looked up.

" I should think it jolly well would," he said. " The
Evening Record has seen to that."

" But what on earth could they be thinking of ? "
asked George. " Surely to goodness they must have
known what was coming. Somebody's pulling their
legs. It's a mistake."

" A pretty expensive mistake for the newspapers
who've printed it," said Bill.

" And what's the other firm ? Didn't it say there
were two ? "

" Oh, yes. Here we are. ' Hardly less disquieting
for the future of this industry is the news which reaches

us this morning from Paris of the failure of ' My

God, George ! It's us ! "

" It's what ? "

" They've gone off their heads. Look at that. ' The
failure of the Agence Lemaitre, an important house who
have connections with practically all the big makers of
these goods in the United Kingdom.' "

BILL V. FATE 807

" Go on. Go on ! "

" ' At the moment of writing it is impossible to say
how widely this second failure will be reflected at home ;
but as it is learnt that the Agence Lemaitre acted
exclusively for British houses, it is feared that there
will be widespread losses in this country as well.' "

George banged the table \Wth his hand.

" It's a plant," he shouted. " Wasn't I at the Rue
d'Uzes till six o'clock last night ? I'm going to see that
infernal editor and wring his neck. If he doesn't print
a denial by to-night, I'll kick him out of his own window.
Bill, was this why somebody sent me that telegram ? "

" Wait a minute, George. Leave the editor alone
for one second. Even the Record wouldn't have printed
that, if some one hadn't sent it the news. Now tell me
this. If anybody could have smashed us at this stage,
who would it be ? "

" What ? I don't follow."

" Who's got our bills for all the money we've raised
since we started in Paris ? "

" I know who's got 'em. But the damned things
aren't due yet."

" None of them ? "

" Only the first, and Pilbrow said he'd get it "

George broke off suddenly, and gaped at some unseen
vision.

" But could we have met it ? "

" Yes, of course we could, if we'd known we'd got to ;
but Pilbrow said "

" He said he'd get it renewed ? "

" Yes," said George, leaving his mouth wide open.

" Well, what if he didn't ? What if that was why they
wanted you out of the way ? "

" But, Bill, Barrett's still there. He'd have known
what to do. Besides," he added, but with diminishing
conviction, " you can't go and bust people up between
one evening and the next morning, without any kind of
notice. Not even in France."

" If they're capable of forging a telegram," said Bill,
" they've probably sandbagged Barrett by now. Heaven

808 BILL THE BACHELOR

only knows what's going on in Paris, but I'll tell you one
thing. This message to the Evening Record came from
our office."

" But who sent it ? "

" Pilbrow."

*' But, my dear Bill, why ? "

" Because Osman Girling told him to. Isn't it obvious
that the whole thing hangs together ? Girling fetches
you over with a faked message, and Pilbrow spreads the
news that the agency has gone smash. Don't you
waste your time on that editor. It's Girling we want
to get after."

" But what's he done it for, Bill ? I mean to say "

" If you ask me, he's done it for the same reason that
he's got this news on to the front page of the Record,^ ^
said Bill, pointing to the crumpled newspaper where it
lay between them. " He's done it because he wants
to put a stop to this combine, and by Jove, I should
think he's just about killed it."

" But if it's not true ? " persisted George.

" It must be true about Millers', though how on earth
he's managed to fix that, heaven alone knows. And
as for us, if Pilbrow has murdered Barrett and told
everybody in Paris that you've bolted to England,
there's not much difference that I can see between that
and the agency going bust. Remember what Girling
said. That he always did as much as he promised,
and no more. Well, he promised to lend us money,
but he never said he wouldn't come along afterwards
and ruin us. And now we can see what mugs we were
to think he ever meant to do anything else. If you
want my opinion about it, he's been waiting for this
moment ever since that day that he first sent for me."

" All right, then," said George with a look of sudden
determination. " But he needn't think he can get
away with it. You can go and see him if you like,
though I don't know what you're going to do when you
get there. But I'm going back to Paris — now."

" You mean to-night ? "

" No, I mean now. I'm going to fly." He got up

BILL I. FATE 309

from the table as he spoke. " You'd better stand by
at Pardon Court, if your influenza will let you. You've
got to play Ephraim Miller's game until you hear from
me. Tell anyone who asks that you've nothing to say.
I'll try and get back as soon as I can. And if I catch
Pilbrow there, and find that he's at the bottom of this

" He left the threat unfinished, but it was none

the less ominous for that.

" But, George "

" It's the only thing to do," George broke in. " And
whether you're right or wTong, it's the only thing the
people who put this stuff in the Record don't expect.
I'll leave my bag at your flat. Good-bye, old man.
Don't you worry."

And with these last words, he was half-way towards
the dining-room door.

" ' Don't worry,' indeed," echoed Bill, staring after
him. If it weren't for this infernal weakness, which
even now was making his heart beat so that he could
hardly hear himself think, did anyone suppose he'd have
let George run off like that, with no further decision as
to his own part in this appalling affair than the instruc-
tion to stand by and do nothing ? Do nothing ! Why,
everybody in the City knew that Erasers' and Lemaitre's
were the same business. What would Thibaud be doing ?
He'd probably been ringing up the flat ever since the
evening papers had come out. Influenza or no influenza,
he must go down to Pardon Court at once.

He hurried across the room, paid his bill, and shouted
to a boy to get him a taxi. One couldn't risk the Under-
ground in circumstances like these.

But five minutes were wasted in finding the cab
which on ninety-nine days out of a hundred was always
waiting on the rank opposite the Corinthian front door.
And in Fleet Street a many-bannered procession of
unemployed kept the whole stream of east-bound traffic
waiting while it wended its gloomy way along the
gutter. Bill's watch showed that it was nearly a quarter
to four by the time that the taxi reached the entrance
to his little blind-alley. He jumped out wliile it was

310 BILL THE BACHELOR

still moving, handed the driver the coins which had
been warming in his hand for most of the journey,
and dashed across the pavement.

If he had expected to find the stairway blocked with
creditors and newspaper reporters he was agreeably
disappointed. But he soon saw or thought he saw why.
The outer door of Messrs. Eraser and Company's office
was shut, and for the second time in his life he read one
of M. Thibaud's neatly-typed notices. " Office closed
to-day " it said.

Bill thundered on the panels and hearing sounds of
life from within shouted out : " It's all right. It's
me — Mr. Eraser."

There was a noise of bolts being withdrawn the
door was cautiously opened, and revealed — Barrett.

Bill all but fell backwards down the stairs.

" You ! " he gasped. " What ? "

" Thank heaven you've come, sir," said Barrett,
seizing his employer by the arm, and pulling him into
the office. " Where's Mr. Lucas ? "

" Lucas ? " stammered Bill. " He's gone back again.
W^hat on earth are you doing here ? "

" But he wired for me to come over," said Barrett in
amazement. " I've only just arrived. I flew."

" You flew ? " Bill suddenly felt himself on the verge
of laughter, but Barrett's face made him stop in time.
" Show me the telegram."

" Here it is, sir. * Come to London as soon as you
possibly can. Very urgent. Lucas. ^ There you are,
sir. Mr. Pilbrow wanted me to catch the boat train,
but "

" Pilbrow ? Did you leave him in Paris ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Was anything — I mean, was everything all right
there ? "

" Everything, sir. Why shouldn't it be ? I only
saw the paper when I got in just now, but — well, Mr.
Lucas must have told you, sir. Of course there's
nothing in it. Why, he only left the office when he got
your wire last night. Do you know what he wanted

BILL r. FATE 811

mt for, sir ? Mr. Thibaud said he'd gone to your flat,
but your housekeeper said she didn't know where either
of you was."

" Is Thibaud still here ? "

" Yes, sir. We didn't know what was best to do.
But we thought we'd better keep callers out until we
could hear from Mr. Lucas or you."

" Quite right. Have there been any ? "

Barrett smiled.

" One or two, sir," he said. " But we didn't look to
see who they were. Is Mr. Lucas coming on here, sir ? "

" No," said Bill. " I told you. He's gone back to
Paris. And I'm very sorry, Barrett, but I think you'd
better go after him. Telegraph to say you're coming.
Do you see ? "

" Yes, sir. But excuse my asking "

" I can't explain what's been going on," Bill inter-
rupted, " because I don't understand it myself. But
I'll tell you one thing. I never sent that telegram to
Mr. Lucas, and he never sent the other one to you. The
same people who put this report in the evening papers
wanted to get you and him away from Paris, I'm very
much afraid because they're up to some mischief there."

" But how was I " Barrett began.

" Of course you couldn't tell ; any more than Mr.
Lucas could. But I think you'd better go back by
to-night's boat. Tell Mr. Lucas I sent you."

" Yes, sir. But do you think ? "

" I don't know what to think, Barrett, and that's the
truth. Now I must just have a word with Thibaud and
then "

" Oh, excuse me, sir. I'm afraid I forgot. I've got a
note for you from Mr. Pilbrow."

" From Pilbrow ? " snapped Bill. " Let me have it."

He seized the envelope from Barrett's hand, and tore it
open. And then, vnth some belated idea of caution,
he hurried through into his little room before unfolding
the sheet of notepaper.

The message consisted of exactly two words.

" Keep cool—C. P."

312 BILL THE BACHELOR

And at this final and, as it seemed to him, gratuitous
insult, all the bottled-up irritation and mystification
which had been accumulating in Bill's shattered frame
since the moment of George's unexpected arrival that
morning, burst out into one blaze of fury.

Keep cool, indeed ! He'd kept a damned sight too
cool for a damned sight too long. If Pilbrow could send
that kind of message, it meant that Pilbrow had known
the whole infernal plot from the beginning, and removed
the last shadow of doubt that the whole confounded
business had been arranged from start to finish by that
tea-drinking old devil in Imperial Buildings. For six
months they'd been working away in a fool's paradise
— and a quite unmentionable paradise at that — and the
whole point of it all from the first second, the whole
idea in letting them build up and expand the agency,
had been to wait for the right moment and then turn
round and smash it. But they needn't think it was
going to be as easy as all this. He wasn't afraid of
Osman Girling — why should he be, when he'd got nothing
to lose ? — and he was going round to his office now, and
he'd get an explanation from him or choke him with
one of his own, damned, effeminate sofa-cushions.

" Thibaud ! " he shouted, going to the door of his
room. " Keep the place shut until you hear from me.
Don't see anybody. Don't tell anybody anything. If
I don't see you again to-night, I'll be back in the morn-
ing ; and meanwhile — oh, yes, meanwhile keep cool.
Do you hear ? I'm going to get to the bottom of this.
Good-bye, Barrett. You'll go back to-night, won't you ? ' '

" Yes, sir. Certainly, but "

" That's all right, then."

And disregarding M. Thibaud's bilingual cries and
expostulations which were rising in a hysterical fountain
in the background, he dashed out of the office, down the
stairs and through into the street.

The next instant he had leapt at the handle of a
crawling taxi.

" Imperial Buildings," he shouted. " And as quick
as you can."

BILL V. FATE 818

Once again he took the change from his pocket the
moment the cab started, and before it had stopped he
was out on the pavement, had flung his fare to the
astonished driver, and sped into the big entrance. He
wasn't going to wait for any hall-porters or liftmen this
time. He ran up the stairs, along the corridor to the
door marked " No Exit," and burst it open.

The antechamber was in the occupation of a lady
secretary , and as she saw Bill, she got up from behind
her desk.

" Mr. Girling's not here," she said.
" Where is he, then ? "

" He's not here," she repeated. And at this moment
Bill's ears caught the sound of raised voices from the
inner room.

" Who's in there ? " he snapped.
" I tell you Mr. Girling isn't here," said the lady
secretary once more. " Will you kindly state your
business ? "

She seemed infected by some radiation from the central
nerve-storm of which Bill had experienced so many
manifestations since the morning, for her voice rose to
a most un-lady-secretary-like squeak, and she came out
from behind her desk as if to bar the way.

" You can't possibly go in there," she said, shrilly.

" Will you please "

"I'm sorry," said Bill. " You can say I hit you, if
you like. But I'm going in."

The lady secretary looked wildly round, as if to
decide whether to summon help through the telephone
or to fall back on physical resistance and shrieks ; and
in this moment's hesitation. Bill slipped past her.

" It's all right," he said politely. " I'll say it wasn't
your fault." And with these words he opened the door
of the presence-chamber and disappeared from the lady
secretary's sight.

The room seemed to be full of cigar-smoke and noise,
and lit as it was by one solitary standard lamp, it was
impossible for a moment to say how many occupants
it contained. The only thing of which it seemed at all

814 BILL THE BACHELOR

easy to be certain was that a violent dispute was going
on between two hoarse-voiced men, while occasional
bleating interruptions were coming out of the darkness
beyond them. Not for a second did either of the two
shouting and gesticulating figures pause to look towards
the door, and it was clear that neither of them could
have realised that they had been joined by a new
arrival.

" Look here," Bill began with his usual formula, but
his voice was instantly drowned by the sound of the
quarrel.

" It's no use losing your head," barked one of these
dimly-seen silhouettes ; and as he spoke, the other one
stepped forward into the circle of light. His face was
distorted with passion and thrown into unnatural
shadows on the side away from the lamp, but in one,
brief, stupefied flash, Bill saw who it was. Forgetting
everything except this extraordinary sight, he stood
rooted to the floor, his hand still unconsciously clutching
the door-knob.

What, in heaven's name, had brought Austin
Harvey here ?

" Don't you worry about my head," he was shouting.
" You'd better look out for your own, if you don't give
me that paper back. You know perfectly well the
whole thing's a bluff, and if you think you can "

" It's not a bluff," broke in the other. " You go
down to Nottingham and see. Lord Longwood has
written his resignation without pressure from anyone,
and "

" Oh, rot," said Harvey. " Lord Longwood never
wrote anything without pressure. You're not going
to make me believe that. Come on, hand it over.
Didn't you hear him say he'd changed his mind ? "

" No, no," said the voice of the man in the background.
" Let Sir Donald keep it, Austin. I can't go back like
that. I "

" Oh, cut it out," Harvey burst in aHgrily. " Why
can't you leave this to me ? Now, then, Sir Donald,
are you going to give it up ? If Lord Longwood insists

BILL V. FATE 815

on resigning, his letter must go to the Board. Nobody'*
going to pay any attention to documents which you
extort from him in this way. You're not the Boai'd, you
know."

Sir Donald Hammersmith gave a savage laugh.

" Not yet," he said. " And now, as you've heard
what your employer says, perhaps you'll kindly take
him away. You're too late, my friend. Can't you
understand that ? "

" Yes, yes," entreated Lord Longwood from his seat
in the darkness. " It's settled, Austin. I know you've
done ever\i:hing you can, but it's settled. I can't — I'm
not going on."

Harvey had been standing glaring at Sir Donald
during this interruption, but at these last words he
swung suddenly round.

" Listen," he said, in the tone in which one might
perhaps speak to some one else's dog. " Are you going
to let me get you out of this mess, or aren't you ? What
do you suppose these people have been playing for from
the beginning, except your resignation ? I tell you
these failures are all part of their game ; the whole
thing's a bluff to try and frighten you out."

" I'm very sorry," said Lord Longwood, with feeble
suUenness. " But I can't help it. I've given Sir
Donald my word, and I'm not going back on it. I've
had enough of this thing."

" You've had enough of it, have you ? " shouted
Harvey. " You think you can just drop out and run
away the first moment things don't go straight ? But
what about your money ? Do you think you're ever
going to see any of that again, if you resign ? What do
you want to do ? Sit still and let Sir Donald and his
friends call on you for every halfpenny you've guaran-
teed ? You're grateful to Sir Donald for his offer,
are you ? " he sneered. " You're very much obUged
to him for saying he'll take your money and do what he
likes with it ? Didn't you hear him saying that he
wasn't on the Board yet ? Well, you can take my word
that unless you change your mind and back me up, he'll

816 BILL THE BACHELOR

be on the Board by Monday, and what's more, he'll be
in the Chair. The protector of the widows' savings,
that's what he's going to be. And as for you, you'll be
the laughing-stock of the whole City. You don't
suppose you're going to keep your place on those com-
mittees of yours, do you, or anywhere else for that
matter, when people hear how you've muddled this
thing?"

"I haven't muddled it," said Lord Longwood,
sulkily. " It's you that's muddled it."

" Oh, I have, have I ? You go and tell that to the
other directors, and see what they say. Good Lord !
to think that I should have wasted my time looking
after you for over six months, and then when you've
gone and messed the whole show up, to be told that I've
muddled it. Yes, you'd better resign, I should say.
And if you think I'm going to do any more for you after
this, then you're jolly well mistaken. I'm through
with you, do you hear ? And you needn't think that
just because your daughter "

He broke off with a stifled cry. For, unseen by all,
a figure had hurled itself towards the centre of the
group, and with a flying leap had grasped him with
both hands by the throat. With a crash, Mr. Girling's
little tea-table rolled against the standard lamp, and
the next instant Harvey, Bill and the lamp all went to
the ground together in one glorious, smashing thud.

" Here ! What the devil " shouted Sir Donald

Hammersmith. " Where does the light turn on ? "

He began plunging in the direction of the doorway,
crunching china beneath his feet at every moment, while
thumps, bangs, gurgles and sounds of suffocation con-
tinued to fill the darkened room.

" Let go my leg ! " cried Lord Longwood, whose
efforts to reach assistance had unfortunately brought
him into the very vortex of the struggle. The vice-like
grasp was mysteriously released, and he fell, staggering,
on to the sofa.

" Sir Donald ! Sir Donald ! " he gasped. " Turn
on the light. They're killing each other."

BILL V. FATE 317

For a brief moment a beam of light shone through the
door on a vision of what looked like about eighteen
arms and legs engaged in furious combat, and then it
was withdrawn.

" Good God ! " said Lord Longwood. " He's left us.
Here, Austin, get up at once. What on earth are you
doing ? "

" Ah, you would, would you ? " said somebody on
the floor, and the next instant the battle had begun
again on the other side of the sofa. Three times heavy
bodies hurled themselves against this piece of furniture,
and each time Lord Longwood made violent but in-
effective grabs at portions of human clothing ; and then,
as suddenly as the noise had begun, there was complete
silence. Were they both dead ? Or were they only
waiting to begin again ? Lord Longwood peered into
the blackness, and then, as he still heard no sound, he
also began groping his way towards the door. But
before he could reach it, there was a sudden movement
from behind, some one bumped past him, and he heard
them scratching at the panels, feeling for the handle.

" Stop ! " he shouted, with courage which might
have done honour to a far older peerage. " Turn on
the lights. You're not to leave the room."

" Turn 'em on yourself," answered a thick and in-
distinct voice — the voice of one who might reasonably
be imagined to be holding a handkerchief to a bleeding
mouth. " I'm going to find Sir Donald Hammersmith.'*
And at these words, the door again opened, a silhouette
appeared and vanished, and with the sound of a closing
latch, darkness returned.

" Don't let him get away," cried Lord Longwood in
the direction of the door ; and plunging forward, he in
turn began feeling everywhere for the handle. But to
all his shouts there was no answering sound from with-
out, and when at last he opened the door, the outer
room, save for his own hat and overcoat, was completely
empty.

He paused in a moment's indecision, and then,
humanity or curiosity triumphing over his first instinct

818 BILL THE BACHELOR

to follow the others into the street, he turned back.
Just inside the doorway he discovered the electric
switches, and as he fumbled at the first which his fingers
had touched, the big alabaster bowl in the middle of
the ceiling flooded the room with radiance.

At first as he stood there, blinking, by the door, his
eyes could see no sign of what he was seeking. The
floor was littered with cigars and broken tea-things,
a couple of chairs as well as the standard lamp were
lying on their sides, and at his feet was somebody's
overcoat, tossed in a disorderly heap. Then, as he
continued to peer nervously round the room, he suddenly
saw, projecting beyond the end of the big sofa, a human
hand and a portion of a human arm.

But surely Austin Harvey's coat had been black,
and not grey.

" Good God ! " said Lord Longwood again. " It
must be the other fellow."

And with a last glance behind him at the empty
antechamber, he stepped cautiously across the battle-
field.

The man was lying on his face, with one arm crumpled
under him, and for the moment he looked most horribly
and circumstantially dead. But even as Lord Longwood
bent over him, he gave a muffled groan and rolled over
on one side.

" My head," he remarked, and then he opened one
eye.

" Good God ! " said Lord Longwood for the third
time. " It's Bill Eraser."

And, as we have of course known all along, it was.

Bill opened his other eye very carefully.

" Influenza," he added.

" What ? " asked Lord Longwood, stooping down
to catch this murmur.

" Influenza," repeated Bill.

" No, no. You've been having a fight. Don't you
remember ? "

" Of course I remember," said Bill, rather irritably.
" I said he wouldn't have knocked me out, if I hadn't

BILL V. FATE 819

just had influenza. Where's he gone ? " he added,
trying to sit up, and immediately falling prostrate
again with another groan.

" He's gone away. Has he hurt you ? "

" No," said Bill. " I was just about finishing him
off, I believe. Only I think I must have fainted. In-
fluenza, you know," he threw in once again. " Oughtn't
to have come out really."

He made another effort to sit up, clutched at the leg
of Lord Longwood's trousers, and by this means gained
time to recover his momentarily doubtful balance.

" I'm all right," he said. And this time he really got
on to his feet.

" Quite all right," he added, and sat down heavily on
the end of the sofa.

" But how did you get here ? " asked Lord Longwood,
staring at him in mingled amazement and admiration.
" What were you trying to do ? "

" I came here to look for — for somebody," said Bill.
" I'm afraid — I'm afraid I got rather excited."

" But where on earth did you come from ? " asked
Lord Long>vood, and then, without waiting for an
answer, he w^ent on : "I say, do you really think you
hurt him ? "

" Look at that," answered Bill, displaying a set of
gory knuckles. " I did that on his teeth."

Lord Longwood bent forward and blinked at this
blood-thirsty spectacle.

" Pretty good, considering it was in the dark," said
Bill, modestly.

" But what were you trying to do ? "

Bill seemed to be searching his memory.

" I'm not sure," he said finally. " I suppose I ought
to apologise to you for damaging your secretary, but,
well, dash it all, I'd heard him talking to you, and it
was about as much as I could stand. If I've got you
into a worse mess than you're in already, I'm sorry ;
but "

" That's all right, Bill. Here, take my handkerchief."
For Bill, unable to find his own, was staunching his

820 BILL THE BACHELOR

wounds on the far from antiseptic fabric of Mr. Girling's
sofa.

" Oh, thanks awfully," he said. " And look here.
Lord Longwood, I'm awfully sorry, but I'm afraid I

overheard some of what you were all saying, and

I'm awfully sorry, but I think I'm going to faint again."

Lord Longwood caught him just in time and pushed
him back on to the sofa.

" Influenza," muttered Bill feebly. " Makes me
feel so dashed flimsy."

" Yes, yes," said Lord Longwood. " Don't try and
talk. Just take my arm, and I'll drive you back."

There was a period of whirling lights, revolving
corridors and undulating stairs, and then Bill suddenly
felt the cool air of the street, and realised that he was
being helped into a motor.

" My overcoat," he murmured.

" It's all right," said Lord Longwood. " I've got it
here. Just let me pull down the window a little."

" Ah," said Bill. " That's better. And then as the
car gathered speed, he suddenly remembered what he
had been trying to say when this second attack had
seized him.

" Look here, Lord Longwood," he said. " You've
got to stick to that chairmanship. This thing is a
bluff ; I know it is."

" Yes, yes," said Lord Longwood soothingly.

" But I know it is. These people — Hammersmith
and his gang — have fixed up the whole thing, so as to
get you out and get themselves in. I suppose the ar-
rangements have all gone through in your name, and
they think they can hold you to whatever you've
guaranteed and come in at the top without paying.
But you mustn't let them. You must tell the Board
what Sir Donald has done, and "

" No," said Lord Longwood, breaking in. " I've
resigned. They can go off with my money, if they
like ; but I've finished. I'm not going on."

" But Harvey said "

" That makes no difference. It was Harvey who got

BILL V. FATE 821

me into this, but I'll take my own chances of getting out
again. I've listened to Harvey for long enough."

" But, Lord Longwood, you can't do that. I mean
— don't you see — that isn't all. There's the other thing
too. There's — there's Leslie."

" We'll see what Leslie says when you tell her how he
spoke to me in that room just now," said Lord Long-
wood, with surprising vigour.

"Oh, no," cried Bill. "I couldn't possibly. You
don't understand. I mean — I can't — I ..."

And once again the street lamps began swooping up
and down, while the noise of the motor was drowned
in the thumping of his own heart. Somebody was
speaking ; saying something about Leslie. His own,
lovely, cool Leslie, who was going to marry somebody
else, because of the opera-glasses that he had given her.
What was that ? A doctor ? No, thanks, he'd finished
with the doctor. The doctor had said he could go out
again ; go out again and fight somebody ; only it must
be in the dark.

Hullo ; had the motor broken down ? That was
funny ; he didn't know that Maurice had been driving
them.

" Just take his other arm, Slater," said Lord Long-
wood. " I'm afraid he's fainted again. We'll put him
on the sofa in my study and telephone for Dr. Cotter.
Come along. Bill, you're nearly there."

Front door steps. Hundreds and thousands and
millions of front door steps. And somebody's hall.
Of course ; he must be going to another dance. Dash
it, why hadn't he dressed ?

" I'm awfully sorry," Bill began apologising. And
then suddenly the mists swirled away. Some one was
coming down the stairs. Good Lord ! he mustn't let
Leslie see him like this. He shook himself free from his
supporters, and tried to go back towards the door.

" Look out, sir," said the butler, hurrying after him.

" Darling " began Lord Longwood ; but Leslie

had jumped the last three steps and flung her arms
round him.

822 BIIX THE BACHELOR

" Oh, Papa," she cried. " Never mind anything
else. Everything's all right. He rang me up on the
telephone five minutes ago. Papa, darling, I'm jilted ! "

And at these last, joyfully-spoken words, Bill the
bachelor stopped, tottered, and collapsed into Slater's
arms.

VII
THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR

Out of a vast blackness Bill became gradually aware of
something large and globular, which had been deposited,
apparently, on his waistcoat. Unless, which seemed
unlikely, it was a melon, it must be — yes, it was — some-
body's head.

" Hullo," he said.

The head bounded in the air and revealed itself as
attached to a professionally-clothed body.

" Hullo," said Dr. Cotter. " Feeling better ? "

" I'm all right," said Bill, sitting up. " What's the
time ? I mean, is it still Friday ? "

" Yes," said the doctor. "Is it true that you've
just been having influenza ? "

Bill considered for a moment.

" Quite true," he said.

" Badly ? "

" Well, I was in bed for a week."

" Oh," said the doctor. " Then why aren't you
dead ? "

Bill didn't seem to catch the connection.

" What do you mean ? " he asked.

" Well," said the doctor, with traces of annoyance,
" you ought to be, you know. And if you're not, you
ought to have got pneumonia. Why haven't you ? "

Bill pondered again.

" I suppose you've cured me," he suggested at length.

" I wish I thought I had," said the doctor regretfully.
" But I can't find anything to cure. Though why you
haven't fractuied your skull," he went on sadly, " I

323

324 BILL THE BACHELOR

really don't know. You've got a lump at the back of
your head the size of a football."

" Have I ? " asked Bill.

He raised his hand to investigate. Yes, it was a bit
painful. But it was ridiculous to talk of footballs like
that.

" It's nothing, really," he announced.

Dr. Cotter laughed mirthlessly.

" I wash my hands of you," he said, rising to his feet.
" I've never met a case where a man took more trouble
to kill himself with less result. If Lord Longwood
didn't swear it was impossible, I should have said that
you'd been blind drunk for at least six hours. It's the
only explanation I can possibly imagine. It would have
been a pleasure to dissect you," he added gloomily.

" It's very good of you to say so," said Bill. " I'm
afraid I've given a lot of trouble."

" Well, you'll live to give somebody a great deal more
before you're finished with," said the doctor. " You'd
better stay where you are for another hour, and then
you can go home. You can run home, if you like, but
I'd sooner you took a cab. And it seems silly to tell
you to wrap yourself up, but you might as well do it.
Anything else ? "

" No, thanks," said Bill. " That is— I mean— if you
could just ..."

He began fumbling at his pocket.

"No, no," said the doctor. "That's all settled.
You're Lord Longwood's guest. Good-night. Let me
know when you're having your next fight, and I'll come
along."

He picked up his bag and left the room.

Bill gazed round the walls. This must be Lord Long-
wood's study, he supposed. He glanced at his watch.
Seven o'clock. He wondered how long he had been here.
And why had the doctor told him to wait an hour.
What wa s the point of that ? He suddenly looked round
and saw a bottle of brandy and a half-empty wine-
glass.

He put out a tentative hand towards it, perhaps to

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 825

test its reality, but as he did so he saw his raw knuckles
and drew it back again.

" By Jove, yes," he said, and then he began remember-
ing things. Lord Longwood was ruined, and he was
ruined, and poor old George was ruined too. And
Leslie ? He had seen Leslie, hadn't he, in the hall.

And she had said something. Something about

Yes, he remembered it all now. And what was the
other thing that she had said ? *' Everything is all
right."

" Everything is all right," he repeated aloud. Yes,
even if everybody were ruined, everything was all right.
It must be, if she had said so. It must be, if Leslie had
said so.

" Leslie." He murmured the name half to himself.
And then a little louder. " Leslie."

And from the doorway somebody answered him.

" Bill," said Leslie.

He turned his head and saw her, and the next moment
— though how it happened no one can ever tell — he
had risen to his feet, and she was in his arms.

" Leslie. Leslie, my darling," he said, drawing her
closer and closer to him ; and then, because the tears
were trickling on her hair, he dared not let her go.

" Bill," she said again, and for a time all they did was
to stand there, locked together, saying each other's
names again and again.

" Bill. Darling Bill. You were ill, and you never
told me. My poor Bill, I've been so dreadfully un-
happy."

" My angel, we won't talk about it. I was a coward
to leave you. Leslie. Darling. Yes, and again just
like that."

Suddenly she had slipped from his arms, and they
were sitting side by side on the sofa. Yet they still
were holding each other's hands.

" Bill, darling. Papa has told me everything. And he
says you know everything too. But you mustn't be
unkind about him ; or about me, Bill. You don't know
what it has been."

326 BILL THE BACHELOR

" We won't talk of it."

" But we must, Bill. You mustn't think I cared for
him. I've never loved anybody but you. Never,
never, never, from the day you came on to that tennis
court. But, Bill, I didn't know you cared for me too.
I thought perhaps you could, but I didn't know. And

that last time you came to Hare Hall Oh, Bill, I

almost went on my knees to you and you never saw it.
And then you even stopped writing to me. And after
that I didn't care about anything, and I thought it
would make things easier for Papa. But it only made
everything much worse, and if I'd really married him, I
think I should have died. But, Bill, you've rescued us.
He's never coming back again. And we'll all be fright-
fully poor and frightfullv happy, as long as we
live."

And she seized up his hand and kissed the marks on
it again and again, until he pulled it away and kissed
her once more on the lips.

" Bill," she went on, " Papa says he'll have to give up
this house and he'll have to let Hare Hall, but they can't
take the White House from us, because he's given it to
me. And, Bill darling, that's what I've always meant
and wanted, for you and me to live there together. Only
you won't mind having Papa, will you, darling ? Just
at first, I mean. Oh, Bill, do you remember when we
were engaged before ? "

" I thought you'd forgotten," he said.

" Of course I hadn't forgotten. Why do you think
I wrote to you as Mr. Eraser, if I didn't remember ?
And why do you think I called you Bill as soon as I saw
you, except that I knew I loved you. Oh, Bill, and
you've never even proposed to me yet ! "

" But, Leslie, I was just going to. I was ; just now.
Only when I saw you, there wasn't time."

" Never mind," said Leslie. " It was nicer that way.
And, Bill darling, Papa looks younger than he's looked
for years. He doesn't mind anything, and he'll be most
terribly pleased about us. Oh, Bill, when did you first
think you liked me ? "

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 327

" On the tennis court, that day I first saw you. I've
thought of nothing else ever since."

" But, darling, why didn't you tell me ? "

" I couldn't, Leslie. I didn't dare. I was so poor ;
and — and you weren't."

" But I am now," said Leslie, smiling. " And you've
done it, my angel. I'll never say it again, but it was
you who sent that awful man to stay with us. But I've
forgiven you, darling. I've forgiven you everything.
Because — do you know why ? "

" Tell me."

And she tells him again.

" But, Leslie, I can't explain it all now, but it's even
more my fault than you think." And he pours out a
confused account of everything that has happened
since that morning when she drove him up to the office
and George showed him the code telegram. For the
first time he breaks his pledge not to mention Osman
Girling' s name, but there must be no secrets from Leslie,
and has not Osman Girling already forfeited all right
for it to be kept ? Leslie sits looking at Bill's eyes and
his ruffled hair, but listening to his voice more than to
his words, and at the end all she says is : " But, darling,
it was my fault really. You were only doing all these
things to try and please me, weren't you ? Does it
mean that you have lost all your money as well ? "

" I can't tell, Leslie. I can't tell until I hear from
George. I can't believe that we have. But if we have,
what then ? "

" Nothing, darling. If you have, we'll live on mine.
And so shall George Lucas. You mustn't worry about
anything except getting well."

" But I am perfectly well. I was only ill because you
were engaged to "

She put her hand over his mouth.

" You mustn't ever speak of that again," she said.
And, inconsistently, she added : " Bill, do you want
those opera-glasses back again ? "

" Oh, no." He shook his head violently. " You
know, I bought them for you for Christmas really. It

838 BILL THE BACHELOR

was only afterwards that they turned into a wedding
present."

" Oh, Bill, how sweet of you. Did you really ? "

He nodded his head as forcibly as he had just shaken
it.

" Bill, you'll stay to dinner, won't you ? Wog's
here, but you needn't think you ought to dress. There
won't be anyone else."

" But what about your father ? "

" Oh, he won't mind."

" But I mean, ought I — I mean — oughtn't I to — to
tell him — to ask him, I mean, about us ? "

" Oh, no," said LesHe. " I'll look after that. But
you're not to think he won't be pleased. Bill, would you
mind giving me another kiss ? "

Two minutes elapsed.

" I must fly," said Leslie, suddenly rising. " Wog
will be down any minute. Bill, darling, the doctor said
you were too wonderful, but are you sure you feel well
enough to come in to dinner ? "

" I feel terribly well, you angel."

" Then I'll tell Slater to show you where to wash.
Come up to the drawing-room as soon as you're ready."

She blew him a last kiss from the doorway, and was
gone.

Under a dream-like Slater's guidance he removed the
last traces of his fight, although brushing his hair at the
back was considerably more painful than he had antici-
pated. And then, just as he was starting to go upstairs,
he suddenly remembered Mrs. Whalley. She would
have been expecting him back hours ago, and even now
was probably putting the finishing touches to his dinner.

" I wonder if I could use the telephone ? " he asked.

" Certainly, sir. Just through here," said the butler.

Bill gave his own number, and waited.

" Hullo," said a man's voice.

Dash it ! The wrong number again.

" Hullo," said Bill. " Isn't that "

" Is that you. Bill ? "

" Yes. Who are you ? "

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 829

" BUI, it's a giri."

" A what ? "

" A girl. I came round to tell you. I couldn't stay-
in the house."

" Oh, Maurice. How splendid I I do hope you don't
mind."

" I don't mind anything."

" And how's Beatrix ? "

" Beatrix is perfectly marvellous. You ought to
have heard her laugh."

" Oh, I say. I am glad. I'm awfully sorry I wasn't
in."

" But why aren't you ? Where are you speaking
from ? "

" I'm at Lord Longwood's. I'm dining here. Would
you mind telling Mrs. Whalley ? "

" Oh, certainly, old chap. I say, what's all this in
the evening papers ? "

•' All what ? "

" All this bust-up in the City. They say Lord Long-
wood has resigned from this new combine, and it's going
to be reconstructed. Why, dash it, you ought to know
all about it."

" I'll tell you when I see you," said Bill, after a
second's pause. " I can't explain on the telephone."

" Oh, all right. I say, you're not mixed up in this
French business, are you ? I see they've got hold of
the same name. But it says it's one of the biggest firms
there is, so I suppose you're all right."

" I'm perfectly all right," said Bill, blessing the news-
papers' exaggeration and his brother's tactlessness.
" I'll tell you all about it when we meet." And then he
suddenly added : " Look here, will you give Beatrix a
message ? "

"Oh, rather. What is it?"

*' Give her my love, and say I'm never going to run
away again."

" But what does that mean ? "

" Oh, she'll understand."

" Well, I'm blessed if I do."

880 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Never mind, Maurice. If she doesn't tell you,
I'll tell you to-morrow. Don't forget about Mrs.
Whalley."

" Oh, all right."

" And I say, I really am most awfully glad. Good-
bye."

A girl, you see. Of course it was a girl. What else
could it have been on a day like this ? Poor old Maurice.
But it was all for the best, if he only knew it. He'd see
that later on.

He left the telephone and went slowly up the stairs.
On the first landing he stopped. Who on earth could
that be, whistling — or perhaps one should say trying
to whistle — in the drawing-room ? He peered through
the open door.

Good heavens ! It was Lord Longwood. Standing
on the hearthrug and blinking at the opposite wall,
where his father glowered from the heavy gilt frame,
he was blowing a windy and unmelodious tune from his
pursed lijjs.

Bill hesitated, and then went in.

" Hullo," said Lord Longwood, breaking off suddenly.

" Leslie said — Leslie asked me to stay to dinner," said
Bill, a little nervously.

" That's all right," answered Lord Longwood. " I
hear you've recovered."

" Oh, rather. I'm most awfully sorry I should "

" That's all right," said Lord Longwood again.

He left the hearthrug, and taking Bill's unresisting
hand, wrung it warmly.

" That's all right," he said for the third time.

Bill tried to answer.

" I — I " he stammered. " I mean, I can't —

I . . ."

Lord Longwood released his hand.

" Don't " he began, and then he also seemed to be

in difficulties with his voice.

"It's— I quite— I think . . ." he said.

He took out his watch and put it back again without
looking at it.

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 331

" I — I'll tell Slater we'll have champagne," he finished
with a rush, and fled from the room.

There was a sound from outside as of a landslide on
the stairs, and Miss Angela Lorden burst into the
drawing-room.

" Oh, Bill," she cried. " LesUe's just told me. Oh,
Bill, I'm so terribly pleased. Oh, Bill, I'm going to
embrace you."

And she did ; nearly bearing him to the floor, such
was her violence.

" Bill, it's exactly what I've always wanted — and I
hear you gave Harvey a black eye too. I do congratu-
late you."

" I may have," said Bill modestly, and with his eye
on the open doorway.

" You did," said Wog. " He came just now to ask
for his things to be sent on, and Slater saw him. Oh,
Bill, why didn't you do it before ? "

" I can't think," said Bill.

" And, Bill, I say. Why did you never write to
me?"

" I was going to. I was really. But I had influenza,
you know."

" Bill, I suppose you read my letter in spite of the
telegram. You did, didn't you ? "

" What letter ? " asked Bill.

Wog's reply took the form of a thump on the back.

" That's right," she said. " There wasn't any letter,
was there ? "

" There may have been," said Bill. " But anyhow
it's burnt."

" I don't pretend that I'm a lady," answered Wog,
with a look of understanding ; " but I always said you
were a gentleman. Look out, here's Leslie."

2

Bill slept on until nearly ten o'clock the next morning
and was woken at length by Mrs. Whalley's entrance
with a telegram.

S82 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Absolute lie everything in perfect order make papers
print denial Barrett arrived safely Pilbrow completely
vanished returning Saturday by boat cheerio — George.^^

" No, no answer," said Bill.

He sprang out of bed and flew to the telephone. In a
couple of minutes he was speaking to M. Thibaud.
But M. Thibaud had, it seemed, also received a telegram
from Paris. The drawbridge was down at Pardon
Court, and everything was again in working order.

" I tell the newspapers when they send, that it is all
their own confusion," said M. Thibaud.

" That's right," said Bill. " And I'm going to make
them publish a contradiction."

" But there is no need, Mr. Fraser. The contradic-
tion is there this morning already."

" What ? "

'* In the newspapers, yes."

"Oh," said Bill. "Right you are. Well, I'll be
back on Monday."

He hung up the receiver and turned hastily to his
morning paper.

" It is understood" he read in the italicised summary
which followed the headlines and preceded the padding,
" that in the crisis which has thus arisen. Sir Donald
Hammersmith, K.B.E., representing important financial
interests, has offered his services to the Board of Directors,
and that this offer has been accepted. An announcement
as to the Board's policy will in all probability be issued
this afternoon. In the meantime we are informed that
the subscription lists will be closed.

" Sir Donald Hammersmith states that while it is
unfortunately the case that Messrs. Peter Miller and
Sons of Nottingham have temporarily suspended business,
the report which appeared in several of yesterday afternoon's
papers that the Agence Lemaitre of Paris had also closed
its doors is unauthorised and incorrect. Sir Donald has
received definite news that this agency, which, it is under-
stood, is in reality a British-owned business, is and has
been in no kind of difficulties whatsoever, and this in-

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 888

formation should do much to remove the impression which
was current yesterday that further failures might shortly
he expected.""

" Oh, he has, has he ? " said Bill to himself. " And
I suppose he thinks that George and I are going to sit
down after that and say nothing more about it.'*

But it was dashed puzzling. Yesterday's theories no
longex* seemed to fib to-day's altered circumstances.
For if all that Messrs. Girling and Hammersmith had
meant to do was to spread the rumour of Lemaitre's
failure, only to contradict it again within twenty-four
hours, why should they have gone to the trouble and
expense of subsidising the business for six months ?
Did they count on George and himself feeling so grateful
to them that no awkward questions would ever be asked ?
It seemed impossible. Gratitude would be the last
thing that they would either feel or expect. One might
be quite certain that whatever Osman Girling' s plans
had been, they had been based on cold, business facts,
and not on anything so remote from his experience as
human emotions. Bill felt now much as he had the
day when an ammunition dump had exploded within a
few hundred yards of him, and had yet done nothing
worse than knock him down. Was this thing all over,
and had he escaped with nothing worse than a fright ;
or was there going to be another and possibly much
bigger explosion while he was still congratulating himself
on his safety ?

If Osman Girling had got wind of Harvey's plans six
months ago and had been conspiring all along to create
this panic for his own ends, had he now got everything
that he wanted ? Or was he still waiting to exact further
payment from Messrs. Fraser and Company for the
assistance which he had forced on them ?

" I give it up," said Bill at last. " I must wait till
I see George this evening. Perhaps he'll be able to see
further into this brick wall than I can."

He took up the telephone receiver again, and gave the
number of the house in Brook Street.

884 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Oh, Mrs. Whalley," he said later, as she was clearing
away the breakfast things, " I shall be out to lunch to-
day, and all afternoon, and — oh, yes, I shall be out to
dinner."

*' Do you think you ought, sir ? Do you think you're
feeling well enough ? "

" Well enough ? " repeated Bill. " I've never felt
better in my life. Wasn't I out all yesterday ? Oh,
and by the way, I'm going to get married."

" Do you mean to-day, sir ? " asked Mrs. Whalley.

" No, I'm afraid not. But quite soon. Oh, yes, as
soon as possible."

Mrs. Whalley put down her tray, leant against the wall,
seemed to choke, to recover herself, and began to weep.

" Here. Look out. I say, don't do that. I didn't
mean to upset you. Mrs. Whalley, for heaven's
sake "

" Oh, Mr. Eraser," sobbed his housekeeper. " I
hope you'll excuse me, sir. B-but I can't help thinking
of mvself."

" But you'll be all right, Mrs. Whalley. I'll see that
you get a good place. There's nothing on earth to
worry about like that."

" Oh, no, sir," she wept. " It isn't that. But I
can't help thinking — I can't help thinking what a b-
beautiful b-bride I was when I m-m-married Whalley."

" I'm sure you were," shouted Bill, with every sound
of conviction. " I'm quite certain you were. There,
there ; there's nothing to cry about. Really there
isn't."

" I'm sorry, sir," gulped Mrs. Whalley. " I'm sure
I hope you'll be very happy, sir." She wiped her eyes
on her apron. " I hope you'll excuse me," she said
again.

" Of course. I mean, there's nothing I mean,

you mustn't think about it."

*' No, sir. But if you could have seen my photo . . ."

Words failed her, and snatching at the tray, she
stumbled from the room.

" Poor old idiot," muttered Bill to himself, gazing

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 335

after her uncomfortably. " Perhaps if I get her those
seats for the CoHseum ..."

He frowned for a moment. Life was always bobbing
up where one least expected it. A complicated business,
in a way . Full of tears, and laughter, and other pointless
extravagances.

But worth it ?

The frown vanished. Of course it was worth it. It
was the most wonderful, marvellous, intoxicating thing
that there had ever been.

3

When one is first engaged — whatever one may do
before or afterwards — one goes everywhere in taxicabs.
It is the only thing to do. And so Bill drove to Brook
Street, and, what is more, he kept the cab waiting out-
side. He did this because in some strange way it helped
to dispel the groundless but ever-present feeling that it
was all so much too good to be true.

Slater's smile — now grown to even more than confi-
dential proportions, was also of assistance.

" In the morning-room, sir," he said, and at the
morning-room door he left him.

Leslie rose from her writing-table as Bill entered, and
though neither of them would have noticed what we
did, we turn aside for a few minutes and look out of
the window. When we look round again, they are on
the settee together, in front of the fire.

" And you're sure you're feeling well enough to
come ? " asks Leslie.

" Darling, you've cured me ; absolutely and com-
pletely. Yesterday morning I was so feeble I could
hardly move, and now "

It's annoying, but we have to look away again.

" I say, how soon can we be married ? " asked Bill,
presently.

" Well, Wog says we ought to put a thing in the news-
papers that it's broken off, and then wait six weeks,
and then put in another one about you and me, and then
wait six weeks again."

886 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Never mind what Wog says. I've got a much better
idea. Couldn't we say that the newspapers have made
a mistake, and that you were really engaged to me all
the time ? Then we could be married in a month. Or
perhaps sooner."

Leslie laughed entrancingly.

" We must talk to Papa about it," she said. " Bill,
Papa sat up last night looking at all his papers, and he's
come to the conclusion that he'll still have a little money
left after all, even if they make him pay everything
that he's promised to pay. Darling, I hope you're not
disappointed."

" Well, if it comes to that," said Bill, " I've just
discovered that, as far as I can make out, I'm not ruined
either. But you won't mind, will you ? "

" Tell me," said Leslie. And when he had told her :
" But do you mean that you've got to go on going to
Paris ? "

" Well, not just yet, whatever happens. I must talk
to George about it."

" No," said Leslie. " I shall talk to him, and I shall
see that you stay in England. Bill, Papa wanted to
know if you couldn't help him, perhaps, to get his
business straight. He really isn't fit to sit up, as he
did last night, trying to do everything himself."

" Why, of course I will. I mean, if I can. But I'm
not as efficient as — as some people."

" No, darling ; and that's why I love you so much.
But I know you could help him like anything, really.
You know. Bill, he's never wanted to be rich. He never
was rich, until Grandpapa died. And he told me this
morning that he's happier already than he has ever been
since that happened."

" And you ? »

** I'm happier than I've ever been in my life," said
Leslie. " You see," she went on, " Grandpapa was a
very clever old man. Bill, but he couldn't understand
anyone wanting to do anything except make money.
And he bullied poor Papa most dreadfully, because
when Papa was a young man he wanted to learn how

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 837

to paint. You mayn't believe it, but he did. And
Papa gave in, and did everything that Grandpapa told
him, and then when Grandpapa died, it seemed too late
to do anything except go on as he was. And he'd have
gone on for ever, if this hadn't happened. But now he's
going to resign from all those committees, and we're
all going to have fun, and even if they wanted to turn
him out of the House of Lords, he wouldn't mind. He
never asked to go there. I wonder if you understand ? "

" I think I do," said Bill.

" And you know, darling, far the biggest part of
Grandpapa's money came out of the war. You — you
see what I mean, don't you ? "

" You're an angel," said Bill. " But then," he added,
"I've always known that."

" Have you. Bill ? You ought to have told me before.
And have you told anyone about — about us, yet ? "

" Only my housekeeper, so far," said Bill. " But I
thought we might go and look at Maurice's new baby
to-day, and then we could tell him, and Beatrix."

" But do you think they'll like me enough ? "

" No," said Bill. " I don't see how they could. But
we must risk that. I say, Leslie."

" Yes ? "

" You don't think I'm middle-aged still, do you ? "

" Middle-aged ? Never."

" I'm — I'm twenty-nine — you know."

" I don't mind what you are, darling, as long as you're
mine."

" And, LesHe."

" Yes ? "

" I don't know. I like your name."

" And an>i;hing else ? "

" And your nose."

" And anything else ? "

" And you."

Later on they went into Lord Longwood's study,
where Leslie listened in silent admiration to Bill's not
Y

888 BILL THE BACHELOR

over-skilful attempts to assist her father in discovering
how far he could still be said to be solvent. But, shorn
of technicalities and the other confusions with which
everything was still to some extent surrounded, the
broad outlines of the situation were sufficiently clear.
The ingenious Harvey had, it appeared, secured the
necessary secrecy in his plans by the bold and simple
means of pledging his employer's credit in almost every
imaginable direction. The whole thing, practically,
had been arranged on Lord Longwood's personal guaran-
tee. If not formally, then at any rate as good as actually,
he had been induced to underwrite considerably the
greater part of his own issue, yet with no discoverable
safeguard in case the issue should fail. In other words
the new directors could call on him to provide practically
as much of the required capital as they chose, and the
greater proportion of this not even as a loan, but as a
very definite and irrecoverable gift. What the actual
figures would be, time only could show.

But Lord Longwood wouldn't hear of resistance.

"It's all right," he said, placidly. "They know
what my father left, and they won't dare ask for more
than they think I've got. I knew I was risking this
when I resigned yesterday, but it was cheaper than being
driven mad, and I ought still to have something left.
I don't expect anybody to praise me for what I've done,
Bill ; I know I haven't even had a run for my money ;
but, well, I'm nearly sixty, and I want a little peace."
He got up, crossed the room, and kissed his daughter.
" And you needn't think they can touch anything of
yours, darling," he said. " That horrible fellow saw
to that all right."

Leslie stroked his arm gently.

" Papa, darling," she said. " Anything that's mine
is yours ; always. And it's only because I know it's
happier for you, that I don't make you take it and go
back to fight those men and beat them. But don't you
think we ought to send a cheque for those people at
Nottingham who've lost their jobs because of all
this ? "

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 839

" Eh ? " said Lord Longwood. " Of course. You're
quite right. I'll send it at once."

" Luncheon is served," said Slater, appearing at the
door. " And your taxi-driver, sir," he added, turning
to Bill. " He wants to know if he's still to wait."

" Good Lord ! " said Bill, starting. " I'd quite for-
gotten. No, of course not. I'll go out and pay him."

" Oh, Bill," said Leslie, looking at him in adoration.
" What a splendid husband you'll make for a poor
woman ! "

" Yes," said George, as Bill led the way into his
sitting-room late that evening, and turned on the light.
" The office was shut by the time I got there last night,
but it was only this morning, after Barrett had turned
up, that I discovered that Pilbrow had given orders for
it to be shut all day. Of course they'd no business to
take his orders, but we weren't there, and they didn't
know any better. There was a bit of excitement this
morning when I first got there, but I told everybody that
my foster-mother had died suddenly — they're awfully
strong on foster-mothers in France still — and they
calmed down wonderfully. Of course there was no
sign of Pilbrow anywhere."

" And no news of our bill either, I suppose ? "

" No, none. But I've warned Barrett, and if anyone
presents it, it'll be paid all right. I say, my dear old
Bill, I really am most fearfully pleased about this news
of yours. I'm sorry if the old man's broke, but if he
doesn't mind and you don't mind, then it might be
worse. I suppose you realise that this was all my doing,
really ? "

" What on earth do you mean ? "

" Didn't I tell you to marry her as long ago as last
spring? Didn't I? Very well, then."

" Well, if you did," said Bill, smiling, " it was only
about the five hundredth time that you've told me to
marry five hundred other people. I wouldn't boast
about it too much, if I were you,"

840 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Bill, you haven't got a photograph of her or any-
thing, have you ? " asked George, disregarding this
home-truth. " I haven't seen her since she was about
ten, and she may have changed. Or was that photo-
graph in your blotting-book meant to be her ? "

" Oh, you found that, did you ? Well, as a matter of
fact, it was. But it's not very like."

" No, no. Of course not," said George. " But I
say, Bill. Wasn't I tactful not to say I'd found it
before ? I'm not often tactful, I quite agree ; but when
I am tactful, I'm one of the most tactful men there's
ever been. Didn't you notice how I put the blotting-
book away, and never used it ? That was tact, if you
like. I say, may I be your Best Man ? I've got a
stunning top-hat that I bought when I first came to
London. You've no idea how respectable I look in it."

" Of course you may," said Bill. " You've got to be,
in fact. And, George, I "

He didn't finish the sentence. The stunning top-hat
had reminded him of other things that had happened
when George first came to London. Poor old George,
whose tact had nearly landed him in the Divorce Court,
who grinned so cheerfully at other people's good fortune,
yet never by any chance complained of what he had
missed himself. What, Bill asked himself, had he ever
done to deserve such a wonderful friend as George had
always been to him ? But what, if it came to that, had
he ever done to deserve anything ?

There was a long silence in the little sitting-room,
and then George suddenly said :

" Oh, by the way, I meant to tell you. A most extra-
ordinary thing happened in the aeroplane."

Bill gave a start, and returned from his wool-gather-
ing.

" Oh, yes," he said. " Tell me about the aeroplane.
What was it like ? "

" Well," answered George, " I don't mind telling you
that when it came to the actual point, I was in no end
of a funk. But I'd sworn to get back to Paris last night,
and I'd told you I was going to fly, so I had to go through

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 341

with it. I missed the last car from London, and I had
to take a taxi out to Croydon, and there was the aero-
plane, looked dashed flimsy and dangerous, and smelling
like nothing on earth. I had to run like the wind to
catch it, and I'd hardly got my breath before the most
appalling row started. I'd no idea what had gone
wrong, until I looked out of the window and saw a lot
of houses streaking past about a thousand miles below.
I'm a peaceable man. Bill, and to tell the truth, it made
me feel a bit sick. I looked away again quickly, and
then I suddenly saw that a fellow in a little wicker chair
on the other side of the gangway was shouting at me.
Of course I couldn't hear a word he said, but I recognised
him at once. And who do you think it was ? "

Bill guessed wildly.

" Not Girhng, was it ? " he tried.

" No," said George. " And lucky for Iiim it wasn't.
It was old Schmidt."

" Schmidt ? What, not the Russian general ? "

" Yes. At least he isn't a Russian any longer. He's
an American. We wrote letters to each other all the
way across. I quite forgot how frightened I was.
He's no end of a bug in a business in Chicago, and we
hadn't gone more than half way before he'd written me
a note to say would I take four thousand a year to look
after his new London branch. Dashed funny," laughed
George, " being offered four thousand a year in an
aeroplane."

He threw back his head and roared delightedly.

" Dashed funny," he repeated, still chuckling.

" But, George," said Bill, as soon as he could make
liimself heard. " You'll take it, of course. I mean, if
he really meant it. Why, of course you must."

" What, and leave you in the lurch in the middle of all
this mess ? No, thank you," said George.

" But you don't mean to say you refused ? "

" Of course I refused. Not that I've heard the last
of it, though. He's coming back here next week, and
unless he's changed his mind, I shall have to refuse all
over again. The silly ass will keep on saying that I

84li BILL THE BACHELOR

saved his life. As if that were the way to run a London
branch," he added, with the utmost contempt.

" But, George, you can't chuck it away like that.

You Hullo ! This can't be the post. It's past

midnight. Wait a second while I go to the door. Mrs.
Whalley's in bed.';

Bill hurried out into the passage and opened the front
door, on which some one was just beginning to knock
again.

" Eraser ? " enquired about three foot six of district
messenger.

" Yes," said Bill.

The boy handed him an envelope.

" Sign there, please," he said. " Thank you, sir.
Good-night, sir."

" Here," asked Bill. " What time do you go to
bed?"

" I'm going now, sir," said the boy with much dignity.

" Well, buy yourself a cigar with this," said Bill, and
presenting him with a shilling, he shut the door.

" What was it ? " asked George, as he came back into
the light.

" Letter," said Bill. He ripped it open.

" I won't ask who it's from," said George, looking
away. " I'm all tact to-night. I "

" Good heavens," Bill broke in, gasping. " It's from
Pilbrow ! "

" What ? "

" Pilbrow."

" Of all the infernal "

" No. Wait a minute. Listen to this. I'm going
to read it to you."

And here is the letter which Bill read : —

''''London. Saturday evening.
" Dear Fraser,

" Fm off to America on Monday, probably for some
time. The fact is that after five years with him, the governor
has given me the sack, as I have been afraid that he was
^oing to do for some time. But donH worry about me.

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 848

Santa Caterina has turned up trumps, and I can afford
to do what I choose now, which will be to go into business
on my own, instead of doing dirty jobs for somebody else.
But I don't want to go off without telling you a little history,
which you and Lucas may find interesting and possibly
useful. It will also show you that even your old friend
Pilbrow, whom you have probably been cursing for the
last twenty-four hours, has his good points.

" This is how it all began. Early this year — / think
it was some time in March — Sir Donald Hammersmith
came to the governor to try and get his backing in the
formation of a big hosiery amalgamation. The governor
liked the idea, and Hammersmith and he sat down together
and began laying their plans. But they hadn't got very
far, when about two months later Hammersmith came into
Imperial Buildings one day, and said that it was quite
obvious from the way things were going that somebody
else had got hold of the idea too, and was planning the same
thing. He wanted either to give it up, or else to find the
other people, if he could, and join up with them, because
he said it was clear that they'd got ahead of him right
at the start. But the governor said No. He said. You leave
this to me, Hammersmith, and do what I say, and you'll
find this is the best thing that could have happened.

" / don't believe the governor had any particular idea
to start with, except that he is a first-class bluffer, and
always has been. But he went down to Leicester himself
and I went with him, and it wasn't long before we found
out who the other people were. It was Lord Longwood
himself that first gave the show away, though I admit
that I opened one or two of his letters in the hotel before I
was certain.

" We came back to London, and the governor told
Hammersmith what he was going to do. He had marked
down Peter Miller's as the best firm for his purpose — he
knew the state they were in, because his money-lender
friends had told him — and he began buying up their debts
with one hand and lending them more money with the
other — through agents, of course. It cost him a good bit,
but he won't lose in the end, and it wasn't long before he'd

^4A BILL THE BACHELOR

got them fixed so that, even if they didn't know it, he'd only
got to say the word and^ they'd have to shut down in about
five minutes. It was the governor who prepared the figures
which old Ephraim Miller showed to Lord Longwood and
his secretary, which made them decide to include the firm
in their list, and it shows how well these figures were got
out when I say that Ephraim believed in them himself.
But it was Hammersmith's idea to give the finishing touch
by getting Millers' a few big orders which would convince
the other manufacturers that they were well over their
troubles. He placed the first order himself, through an
agent again, and sold the goods as Army Surplus in the
East End, I believe. He didn't lose over it either. But a
few days later he was in Ledburys' office and heard Lucas
trying to place that Finnish order on credit. How he
squared Ledbury, I never made out, but he came up to
London right away and told the governor about it, and the
governor sent round at once for you. The governor is
very artistic in his ideas, and it appealed to him very much
that this was a genuine order, and that the goods would
really be used — that was, at least, unless he had to put the
screws on Millers' before it was ready.

" Bui when you and Lucas came round the second time,
and Lucas came out with that story about Lemaitre, the
governor thought he saw a better idea still. He would
play the same game with you that he was playing with
Ephraim Miller, but it would have the great advantage
that when he smashed you, it would hit the industry all
over, instead of only in one place. Of course it would cost
him something, and he was relying on his own ability to
get the business going again after you'd gone, but as he
would be the biggest creditor — as he is now with Millers' —
he thought it would be all right.

" He left you and Lucas in his room and came out to me
and we rang up Sir Donald and a few other people who
could confirm what you'd told us about Lemaitre' s standing,
and then he made you his second offer, which you accepted.
The way he'd got you fixed, you couldn't very well do
anything else.

" The governor always thinks a lot of his judgment of

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 845

people, and he saw that you and Lucas were straight, and
wouldn't give him away if you'd given your word. And
when you wanted to arrange to buy me out again at the
end of a year, he agreed at once, because he knew that by
that time the whole thing would be over — one way or the
other.

" When he sent me out to Paris, my instructions were to
do everything I could to help in expanding the business and
to encourage you to come to him for money. In both of
these things I think you will admit that I succeeded.

" But here is where the governor's plans began to slip
up. The more I thought of the idea of helping you two out
of the mess that you'd got yourselves into, only so as to
land you in a worse one, the less I liked it. Five years
with the governor hadn't taught me to worry very much
about other people's feelings, but I liked you, Fraser.
Fd rather not say what I think of you in a business
capacity — you're a bit too old-fashioned for me there-^but
I liked the way you put your back into things, and the way
you took me on trust, and the way that you never showed
off because you'd read books and learnt things that I hadn't.
It struck me that we were playing a pretty low-down game
on you and Lucas, and tlie long and short of it was that
when I saw the governor again in September, I told him
that I wasn't going on with it. I told him that he could
get some one else to take it on, but that Fd had enough of
it, and if he didn't like this, then I would resign my post
with him.

" There was a bit of bluffing on both sides then. I
didn't want to throw up the best-paid job I'd ever had, but
the governor didn't want me to go telling his secrets. And
to be perfectly honest about it, we could probably both have
landed each other in gaol, if we'd wanted to. In the end
the governor climbed down. I didn't know at the time thai
Sir Donald Hammersmith had been giving lunches to
Lord Longwood's secretary, and that the result of this was
that the governor had decided that it was going to be an
easier job than he'd thought. But anyhow he said that
if Fd carry on until he was ready, he'd see what he could
arrange ; and that if I could gel everybody away from

846 BILL THE BACHELOR

Paris for twenty-four hours when he said the word, then
he wouldn't smash you unless he absolutely had to. This
seemed the best that I could do, though it was less than Fd
tried to get, and we arranged a set of telegrams to be sent
off when the governor said Go. But after this he began
trying to keep things from me, and though I knew he'd
stick to his word, he can always find a way round it wheri
he wants to. This was why I tried to make you and Lucas
come into the Santa Caterina. I thought it would cover
your losses, if the worst came to the worst. But I couldn't
tell you why, and when you both said you couldn't afford it,
I had to give it up. I hope you're sorry now, because the
thing was a cinch, and I knew it. Vve cleaned up nearly
a million dollars over it myself.

" Now we come to the end. Last Wednesday, just after
Fd got to Paris, I got a wire from the governor that the
United Hosiery subscriptions were to be opened on the
Friday. He'd got it from Hammersmith, who knew it
because he was a director of Ledbury's. I knew what to
expect then. On Thursday evening Lucas got the faked
wire from you. It was a bit of luck for us that you had
influenza, for he didn't need any pressing to leave at once.
On Friday morning we got rid of Barrett in the same way,
and I had the office shut as soon as he'd started. I had
already telegraphed to a London news agency that the
Agence Lemaitre had failed, and Hammersmith and the
governor had made certain that the news, and the news
about Millers', would be splashed in the afternoon papers.
I stood by in Paris, waiting to know whether the bluff had
worked, and about eight o'clock I got a wire saying ""All
clear," which meant that they'd got what they wanted and
they were going to let you off, and I caught the next train
back to London. I knew that Lucas would probably be
back by the morning, and I didn't want to risk meeting
him just at the moment.

" It seems that Sir Donald rang up Lord Longwood as
soon as the evening papers came out, and said that if he'd
come down and see him at the governor's office, he'd do
what he could to help him, if he'd undertake to resign from
the Board and give Sir Donald a free hand. He came

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 847

along at once, and it was almost too easy. He didn't hold
out for any terms of any description, he signed his resigna-
tion inside five minutes and he even thanked Sir Donald
for getting him out of it all. He actually said it was cheap
at the price. Sir Donald could hardly believe that it was
all over — for I don't mind telling you that this is going to
cost Lord Longwood pretty well everything he's got — , when
just at this moment, in came the secretary. Harvey, he's
called. He had tracked Lord Longwood down by seeing
his car outside, and the second he came in he began tQ kick
up hell. Sir Donald says it looked for a moment as though
he were going to get Lord Longwood to try and back out,
and he was expecting some trouble if he did. But Lord
Longwood said No, he'd had his choice and he'd had enough
of this business and even if he lost every penny he had, he
wasn't going on.

" Nobody seems clear what happened after that. The
governor was listening through the door of the bedroom he
sometimes uses there, and he says that all of a sudden some-
body else flew into the room and kicked the lamp over, and
before he knew what was going on he heard his best tea-
service being smashed to atoms. He dashed round by the fire-
escape, and he was just in time to meet Sir Donald
coming out by the secretary's room.

" Sir Donald said that he'd got everything he wanted in
his pocket, and that if there was a lunatic in there in the
dark, the best place for him and the governor was outside.
The governor didn't like the idea of leaving his room to be
broken up, but it was all quite quiet again inside and they
could hear Lord Longwood shouting for help. So they told
Miss Gibbons — that's the governor's stenographer — to come
away at once, and they all ran down the stairs together.
The fact is that this wouldn't be the first time that the
governor has had people after him with a knife or a gun,
and they telephoned afterwards to the housekeeper to go up
with a policeman, but by that time the place was empty.

" They've no idea who the lunatic was. But if it was
you or Lucas, you needn't think I'm going to tell them. Only
it seems a pity that you should have let old Hammersmith
get away, if you were trying to give him a bit of his own back.

348 BILL THE BACHELOR

" This after noon the governor had me in to sje him,
gave me six months' salary, and the sack. This is what
I've got for trying to run with the hare and hunt with the
hounds, but I can't say I mind. The only thing Fm sorry
about is that I never got you two to come into the silver
mine with me.

" However, Fll give you a bit of parting advice. United
Hosiery are going to offer to buy your business. The fact
is that {thanks very largely to me) it's a great deal too
valuable for them to leave alone, especially if you're going
to cut up rough and make difficulties about dealing with
them, which wouldn't be surprising if you've guessed a
tenth part of what I've just told you. They'll probably
offer to take over your liabilities — in other words the gov-
eriior's bills, which they know they needn't pay — and offer
you about ten thousand in cash for the goodwill.

" Don't you take it.

" Hold out for fifty thousand — or more if you like — and
they'll pay. And if they don't, tell them that you've had
this letter from me and that you know my address. Cjo
Kidder Peabody will always reach me, and if you want any
more written evidence, I'll be pleased to supply it. For
private reasons I don't want to be in England for a few
years, if I can help it.

" Good luck to you both,

" Yours very truly,

" Charles Pilbrow.

" P.S. — / forgot to say that my real name is Wilbraham.
Or if it isn't, it's what I shall call myself in America. I've
bought a peach of a wig, and am going to be good in future.'^

" Well," said George, when this extraordinary letter
was finished. " Pilbraham's a good fellow. But of
all the infernal rogues I ever heard of, I should say he's
the worst. And were you the lunatic ? "

" Yes," said Bill. " I'll tell you about it afterwards.
About this letter," he added ; " shall I burn it ? "

" It would be blackmail, of course," mused George.
" But with people like that, why not ? "

"I'll do whatever you say," said Bill. "But it's

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 349

dirty money. It's some of the dirtiest money there's
ever been."

" We're ' old-fashioned,' aren't we ? " said George,
looking up. " All right. Chuck it in the fire."

" Twenty thousand pounds each ? " said Bill, inter-
rogatively, holding the letter over the glowing coals.

" Let it go."

The paper scorched, blackened and burst into flames.
Soon there was only a ghostly film, which writhed un-
easily, and then shot up the chimney and disappeared
from sight.

The weather that December was so mild, that on
Christmas Eve Leslie and Bill walked up the hill after
lunch and sat on the seat in the Hare Hall garden where
they had sat in September, until the sun had almost set.
Their talk was made up of many silences, but this was
the kind of conversation that they both enjoyed most.
When they did speak, it was as often as not for one of
them to begin, " Do you remember . . ." And though
it seemed that the other one always did remember, there
was no sigh of impatience at the familiarity of these
alternating reminiscences.

" Papa drew a picture of me yesterday," said Leslie,
presently. " He bought a block and some pencils in
Wordingham, and he's terribly pleased with it. I expect
he'll show it to you after dinner, and you must be
terribly pleased with it too. Promise me."

" Is it like you, darling ? " asked Bill.

" It's very good of my amber necklace," said Leslie.
" It isn't quite so good of the rest, perhaps. But you'll
say it is, won't you ? And if Papa wants to draw you
too, you'll let him ? "

" Of course," said Bill. " And perhaps he'd give it
to me to keep."

" Yes. Perhaps he would."

There was another silence, while they both watched
Alfonso prospecting for invisible rabbits. Presently
Bill asked ;

850 BILL THE BACHELOR

" Have you heard from the house-agents again ? "

" Oh, yes. I meant to tell you. Mr. Schmidt says
he'll take Hare Hall for two years for certain. But he
won't be over again until the summer, and he says
there's no hurry about moving our things. But we
shall have moved all that we want in a fortnight now,
and then " She looked at Bill adoringly.

" Yes," said Bill. " And Then."

*' Darling, you're not taking this job with George
Lucas just to please me, are you ? I don't want you
never to do anything, but you've worked so terribly
hard all this year, and Papa's business has taken up such
a lot of your time, that I shouldn't blame you if you
wanted a little holiday."

" I'm very lucky to get it," said Bill. " No, darling,
I mayn't be as clever as you think I am, but it's work
that I know I can do. And I can't live on the money
I've just got for ever."

" But, Bill, you don't like being in an office really,
do you ? Isn't there anything else that you'd like
better ? "

" I don't really like being anywhere except with you,
my angel," said Bill. " But one takes what one gets.
When I was at Oxford, I used to think I should like to
write novels, but I know now that I couldn't if I tried.
I feel things all right, but I can't describe them."

Leslie gave a little laugh.

" Yes," she said. " I found that out when I read
your diaries. But you do feel them, don't you ? "

Bill took her hand again.

" Like the very devil," he said slowly.

There was a further pause, and then Leslie gave a
little shiver.

" Let's come back to the house," she said. " The
sun has quite gone. Perhaps George will have arrived."

She got up, and arm-in-arm they went down the steep
path, while the black spaniel pattered behind them.

In the hall, which was being used as dining-room and
drawing-room as well, so as to save coal, they found Lord
Longwood showing George his portrait of Leslie,

THE LAST OF THE BACHELOR 851

" Hullo, Bill," George called out, as soon as he saw
him. " Here I am, you see. It's ripping of you all to
have me. Leslie, you're looking more wonderful than
ever. I've brought some crackers and a pat6 de foie
gras, just to keep up the Christmas spirit and all that
sort of thing. Bill, there's an evening paper there for
you, if you like. Something about a friend of yours in
it."

Bill picked up the crumpled sheets from the chair
where George had dropped them.

" Middle page," said George. " Yes," he added,
turning away again, " I'd have known it anywhere. It's
— I mean, the necklace especially. It's so awfully life-
like."

Bill found the middle page, and looked up and down
the three columns of " To-night's Gossip." In several
places little half-tone photographs had been inset, and
with a sudden start he saw that one of them represented
Osman Girling. He turned to the accompanying para-
graph, but it seemed that he knew what was coming
almost before his eyes had time to read it.

" Mr. Osman Girling," the diarist had written, " who
is well-known as a patron of music and as a progressive
force in modern financial circles, has always been fond
of a good story. Here is one that he relates ..."

Once again the Right-hand Man had chosen his master.

THE END

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